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<p>Last summer, a Toronto nutritionist named Max Sidorov was surfing the Web when he stumbled upon a video titled “Making the Bus Monitor Cry.” It showed a group of young boys aboard a school bus in upstate New York cruelly taunting the 68-year-old woman who was charged with supervising them. The boys call Karen Klein “ugly” and a “fat ass” and, yes, make her cry.<br /> </p>
<p>Sidorov felt moved to do something nice for this beleaguered woman he’d never met. He created a <a href="http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/lets-give-karen-the-bus-monitor-h-klein-a-vacation--6?website_name=loveforkarenhklein">donation site on Indiegogo</a> with the stated goal of raising $5,000 for Klein as a token of people’s kindness. “Lets give her something she will never forget,”&nbsp;he wrote to prospective donors. “A vacation of a lifetime!”</p>
<p>By the time Sidorov’s funding drive ended a month later, more than 32,000 people had given a total of $703,168. Klein accepted the money and soon after retired from her bus monitor job. She gave $100,000 to establish the <a href="http://news.karenkleinfoundation.org/">Karen Klein Anti-Bullying Foundation</a>. She kept the rest.</p>
<p>When we watch the truly nasty scene that unfolded on the school bus that day, we all want to give Karen Klein a big hug. We might even, like Max Sidorov, want to send her on a lovely vacation. It seems much less obvious that we’d want to hand her $700,000.</p>
<p>Compare the 10 minutes of verbal abuse that Klein endures in this video to the ordeal of Lydia Tillman—a Colorado woman who was raped, savagely beaten, doused with bleach, and left for dead in an apartment her attacker had set on fire. Tillman survived after leaping out a second-story window. She suffered a stroke, was put in a coma, and awoke five weeks later without speech or motor skills. Her brother launched <a href="http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/still-kickin?website_name=still-kickin">an Indiegogo campaign</a> that managed to raise a smidge more than its goal of $65,000. This money wasn’t meant to fund a vacation for Tillman or to let her quit her job, but rather to pay for a surgery that would allow her to eat solid food again.</p>
<p>It’s not my intention to create a hierarchy of deserving victims. But surely we can agree that, in hindsight, the monetary outpouring for Karen Klein seems disproportionate. Yes, Klein earned sympathy partly because her abuse was captured on video. It also didn’t hurt that Sidorov’s fundraising page got linked on Reddit. At a certain point, though, the cause developed its own momentum and snowballed out of control.</p>
<p>Donations reached $5,000 within the first two hours, according to Sidorov, and were up to $100,000 by the end of the first day. People who went to the Web page could easily see that there was already more than enough money to send Karen Klein on 20 vacations. They didn’t care. They just kept giving.</p>
<p>“When it got to $300,000,” Sidorov recalls, “I thought, <em>Hey, this is a lot of money</em>, and I posted on the Indiegogo page that maybe some percentage of the donations should go to anti-bullying initiatives.” But that’s not what the donors—most of whom had given about $20 each—wanted to happen. “There was a big reaction. People said no. They wanted all the money to go to Karen.”</p>
<p>Stephen Reicher is a psychology professor at Scotland’s University of St Andrews. He researches the psychological foundations of crowd behavior. (When I first emailed him, he replied from India, where he was observing the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kumbh_Mela">Kumbh Mela</a>—“the biggest crowd event in the world.”) I asked Reicher about the Karen Klein case. Why had 32,000 people eagerly pigpiled to help this one particular woman? &nbsp;</p>
<p>Reicher attributes the giving frenzy, in part, to concretization. “For an abstract idea to affect us,” he says, “it often helps if it’s turned into something concrete and embodied. To say lots of people are suffering is an abstract concept. To see this one woman suffering, and be able to help her, is more concrete.”</p>
<p>Reicher suggests that the “archetypal elements” involved here played a role as well. As we watch the video, we might flash back to moments when we were bullied on a school bus. Or <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/life/family/2012/06/the_karen_klein_school_bus_bullying_incident_demonstrates_how_rampant_the_problem_is_.html">feel guilt about having bullied others</a>. The video also pits strongly defined, archetypal personas in opposition to each other—brash youth versus wise elder. (Max Sidorov thinks it’s this juxtaposition of foulmouthed little kids and a weeping older woman that really screws with people’s emotions.)</p>
<p>Is there something inherently different about crowd behavior on the Internet? Certainly, material that might incite a crowd can spread faster and further via social media than it can offline. And Reicher argues that the Web is especially suited to exerting “metaperceptual influence”—or, more simply put, “it affects what we think other people think.” Seeing lots of Facebook likes or retweets or charitable donations can guide our own actions.</p>
<p>But Reicher also feels that the Web may exaggerate the distinction between group members and outsiders. “In person, a crowd can see that we’re all, for instance, fans of the same sports team. We see cues to that group membership. But we can also see cues to individual identity—visible things that distinguish us from each other.” When we’re isolated at our computers, interacting fairly anonymously online, we might see many more clues about group allegiance and many fewer clues about individual humanity. So we act more purely in terms of group values and concerns. “If we see a person whose plight we associate with ourselves, who we see as one of us suffering, that purer group process will heighten our generosity. And when someone violates our group norms, there will be powerfully negative behavior toward them.”</p>
<p>John Suler, a psychology professor at Rider University, has studied “deindividuation”—the loss of personal identity within groups. “Deindividuation happens online as well as offline,” says Suler. “But there might be a tendency toward it online due to the enhanced opportunity for anonymity. Deindividuation unleashes the emotions and wishes below the surface of people. It can steer us toward punishment or altruism.”</p>
<p>And lest you think online crowd behavior is all Karen Klein-style altruism, consider the punishment the Internet herd meted out to Lindsey Stone. Stone was on a work trip to Washington, D.C., when she <a href="http://img.gawkerassets.com/img/1864ftfcbplunjpg/original.jpg">posed for an obnoxious photo</a> in Arlington National Cemetery. She unwisely posted the photo, which shows her flipping the bird next to a sign that reads “Silence and Respect,” on her Facebook page. It went viral. A Facebook group soon formed—30,000 glommed on at one point—and dedicated itself to getting Stone fired from her job at a Massachusetts nonprofit that supports adults with disabilities. Within a matter of weeks, <a href="http://gawker.com/5962796/happy-now-good-employee-lindsey-stone-fired-over-facebook-photo">mission accomplished</a>. The herd had trampled Lindsey Stone.</p>
<p>Charities have always used poignant, individual stories to play on people’s emotions and open up their wallets. But the idea was that you should donate to the charity, not to the individual sad sack with the most heart-wrenching video or the most prominent link on Reddit. Likewise, political and social causes have long used the specter of bad behavior to lobby for new laws and policies—but rarely to round up an angry mob that tracks down specific offenders. It seems we’ve decided it’s more fun (and much <a></a>easier) to collaborate in making one person happy or unhappy than it is to work together to change the underlying context.</p>
<p>As for Max Sidorov, things pretty much got back to normal after he handed over that $700,000 check to Karen Klein. He’s still a nutritionist. Still believes in karma. “Whatever happens is for a reason,” he says, “so she deserves that money.” He’s been trying to launch a do-gooder social media platform called <a href="http://lovedeeder.com/user/register">LoveDeeder</a>—using a combination of his personal savings and some spillover funds that people sent his way in recognition of the solid he’d done for Klein—but the money ran out, and the project has stalled.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, a homeless man in Kansas City, Mo., is the beneficiary of an ongoing giving campaign that’s now up to $178,000. Why? Because he <a href="http://todaynews.today.com/_news/2013/02/17/16994285-homeless-man-on-returning-engagement-ring-i-was-raised-to-be-honest?lite">refrained from stealing a woman’s engagement ring</a>. There’s still time for you to chip in. Go ahead, you’ll feel better once you <a href="http://www.giveforward.com/billyray">join the crowd</a>.</p>Mon, 11 Mar 2013 04:00:30 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2013/03/karen_klein_bullied_bus_monitor_why_did_a_bunch_of_people_on_the_internet.htmlSeth Stevenson2013-03-11T04:00:30ZWhy did a bunch of people on the Internet donate $700,000 to a bullied bus monitor?TechnologyWhy Did a Bunch of People on the Internet Donate $700,000 to a Bullied Bus Monitor?100130311002technologyfundraisingtechnologyfundraisingSeth StevensonThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2013/03/karen_klein_bullied_bus_monitor_why_did_a_bunch_of_people_on_the_internet.htmlfalsefalsefalseWhy Did a Bunch of People on the Internet Donate $700,000 to a Bullied Bus Monitor?Why Did a Bunch of People on the Internet Donate $700,000 to a Bullied Bus Monitor?Photo by Karen Bleier/AFP/Getty ImagesA journalist checks out the Indiegogo fundraising campaign for bullied bus monitor Karen Klein on June 21. The campaign raised more than $700,000.Won’t You Be My Neighborhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2012/12/nextdoor_the_social_network_that_introduces_you_to_your_neighbors.html
<p>According to <a href="http://www.economist.com/blogs/democracyinamerica/2012/09/socialising-america">some recent survey results</a>, Americans have become rather unneighborly. A mere 30 percent of us socialize with our neighbors more than once a month (down from 44 percent in the mid-1970s). And a shocking 28 percent of us know <em>none</em> of our neighbors by name. We may keep in touch with faraway friends on Facebook, but when it comes to hanging out in our own communities we are bowling alone.</p>
<p>Tech entrepreneur Nirav Tolia noticed that we increasingly seem to prefer rubbing elbows online—instead of in real places where real elbows might really rub—and saw a business opportunity. In late 2010, he created a service called Nextdoor. It's a social network that attempts to webify the original social network: the neighborhood. There are now Nextdoor sites in more than 6,500 communities in 49 states (not clear what's up with those anti-communitarian South Dakotans). All of them were launched by regular folks who sought a way to connect with their neighbors, but didn't want to ring doorbells or make small talk in the elevator.</p>
<p>To start a Nextdoor site for your own 'hood, you first define the physical boundaries of neighbordom. Who do you consider your fellow villagers? They could be spread out over a vast open realm if you live in a rural area where the houses are far apart; or might mingle around a few leafy blocks if you inhabit an inner-ring suburb; or could be smooshed together within a single high-rise building if you're a city dweller. Nextdoor prefers that each of its neighborhoods contain at least 75 households. So far the median number hovers somewhere around 200 to 300.<br /> </p>
<p>Once you've targeted your territory, you recruit your neighbors to sign up. Nextdoor provides postcards to put in mailboxes and flyers to post on telephone poles or in apartment building lobbies. No one is required to join, of course. If neighbors do hop on board, they must register using their real names and physical addresses (which Nextdoor then verifies before admitting them). Any posts on the site will be made under those real names—not made-up screen names—with real addresses visible for all other neighbors to see.</p>
<p>What happens on a Nextdoor neighborhood site once it's up and running? I spoke with Nextdoor users in San Francisco; Lafayette, Col.; and Hamilton, N.Y., and poked around on a couple of sites. Turns out there are lots of requests for recommendations: Anybody know a good nanny/auto mechanic/plumber? Also some spirited discussions regarding the relative merits of local restaurants and grocery stores. Much selling of or giving away of old patio furniture, outgrown baby strollers, and unwanted sporting equipment. Announcements about upcoming block parties and holiday gatherings. The occasional safety alert, when someone's car gets broken into while it’s sitting in a driveway.<br /> </p>
<p>You might wonder whether you could achieve similar ends simply by creating a Facebook group and asking neighbors to join. But Tolia points out that many have made the same argument about LinkedIn—that it’s useless because you could do the same stuff on Facebook—and yet lots of people find that site more useful than Facebook for professional networking. Nextdoor has dedicated tabs built in for things like events, recommendations, and safety. It eventually plans to make money by selling targeted ads of some sort to local dentists and window washers and such.</p>
<p>Perhaps more important, Nextdoor is private: Only verified neighbors can see each other's posts, and Nextdoor neighborhoods' pages are not indexed on any search engines. Some other community sites allow anonymity, which has encouraged incidents of nasty small-town gossip. (See <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/20/us/small-town-gossip-moves-to-the-web-anonymous-and-vicious.html?pagewanted=all&amp;_r=1&amp;">this <em>New York Times</em> story</a> about a site called Topix, on which rural users anonymously slag each other—e.g. &quot;Has anyone noticed she is shaped like a penguin.&quot;) Tolia says that using real names and addresses has kept Nextdoor free of vicious name-calling and rumor-spreading. The Nextdoor users I spoke to agreed that this is the case.</p>
<p>To me, the more relevant question is whether we need, or want, to have any connection at all with the random grab-bag of strangers who happen to live nearby. We can sell stuff on Craigslist, give it away on Freecycle, find recommendations on Yelp. Is there something special about doing this stuff within a tightly knit, exclusive circle of neighbors—establishing a bond based on proximity?<br /> </p>
<p>I live in a 75-unit apartment building. I know only two of my neighbors by name. The woman across the hall (who once invited me over for a delicious Rosh Hashanah dinner) seems like a lovely person, and she returned my folding chairs promptly after she borrowed them. But then there's this other dude.</p>
<p>This guy—let's call him Larry—managed to invite himself into my apartment shortly after I moved in, when I was surrounded by open boxes and crumpled packing tape. Within minutes, he'd begun bragging to me about how he cheats on his wife. Since then, he has knocked on my door and 1) asked if I wanted to buy some cocaine, 2) insisted that he wanted to hire a prostitute for me—his treat, and 3) suggested we film some porn in my apartment, with him behind the camera and me as the star. I declined these offers.</p>
<p>Yes, I should have drawn firmer boundaries with Larry. Maybe right after that first visit. But I'm a nice guy, I didn't want to offend him, and it seemed much easier to nod and smile until he went away. Besides, and this is the key: He knew where I lived, and I had no choice but to see him all the time. Telling him off might result in a lot of very awkward moments in the elevator or the mailroom. Didn't seem worth it. I just waited for him to move out. Which he finally did, to my tremendous relief.</p>
<p>It's people like Larry that make us crave anonymity within our neighborhoods. Once even a shred of a relationship has been established, a neighbor might pound on your door at any moment, sidle up to you while you're jogging, or maneuver next to you in line at the corner store. We can't block them, as we can with annoying people on Facebook. The real life equivalent of blocking is a restraining order. That seems a bit messy and is likely overkill in a situation like this.</p>
<p>But while we may not want to be friends with our neighbors, there are still reasons to be neighborly. Moments of sudden need, a la the aforementioned folding chair borrowing. (Nextdoor wants to establish &quot;lending libraries&quot; so neighbors can arrange to share leafblowers and extension ladders and such.) Safety concerns. (There's <u><a href="http://www.campbellcollaboration.org/news_/crime_falls_neighborhood_watch.php">some evidence</a></u> that Neighborhood Watch is an effective program, and Tolia gets excited when he discusses the potential for Nextdoor to reduce crime rates.) Raising awareness around community issues. (There have been attempts to integrate local governments into Nextdoor sites—with posting but not viewing privileges, so they can broadcast information and alerts without spying on their citizens.)</p>
<p>All in all, it seems like Nextdoor may offer most of the benefits of neighborliness with few of the icky downsides. You can establish online ties with your neighbors, thereby eliminating the need to ever interact with them in person. Or—in a best-case scenario—the online connection might manage to surface some cool nearby folks you actually <em>do</em> want to have a beer with. I'm thinking I might go ahead and start a Nextdoor site for my building. Once I'm completely certain that Larry's gone.</p>Mon, 17 Dec 2012 10:40:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2012/12/nextdoor_the_social_network_that_introduces_you_to_your_neighbors.htmlSeth Stevenson2012-12-17T10:40:00ZNextdoor, the social network that promises to introduce you to the people on your block.TechnologyWould You Join a Social Network That Introduced You To Your Neighbors?100121217004social networkstechnologysocial networkstechnologySeth StevensonThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2012/12/nextdoor_the_social_network_that_introduces_you_to_your_neighbors.htmlfalsefalsefalseWould You Join a Social Network That Introduced You To Your Neighbors?Would You Join a Social Network That Introduced You To Your Neighbors?Screengrab via Next Door.Next Door social network.The Secret Lives of Supercuttershttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2012/11/how_to_make_a_supercut_secrets_of_the_youtube_collage_form_revealed.html
<p>Since the beginning of time, humans have reshaped the creative works we encounter. Oral tradition invited storytellers to embellish existing narratives. Sheet music was powerless to prevent the parlor pianist’s reinterpretation. In the '70s and '80s, turntable jockeys led a sampling explosion. And today, of course, we have the “supercut.”</p>
<p>As YouTube crawlers well know, the supercut strings together rapid-fire, out-of-context movie or TV scenes to create a sort of video essay. Many supercuts provide hard evidence of the existence of tropes long suspected but never quite proved: imperiled characters fretting that they <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XIZVcRccCx0">have no cellphone signal</a>; high-tech investigators asking their imaging software to &quot;<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vxq9yj2pVWk">enhance</a>&quot;; action movie toughs girding for battle by announcing, &quot;<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xMANB6YnshU">We've got company</a>.&quot; But what motivates the supercutter to slog through hours of footage to compile these minute observations? And what distinguishes the masters of the form?</p>
<p>The supercut has its proud forebears. Think of Bruce Conner's 1958 found-footage collage, <a href="http://www.criticalcommons.org/Members/ccManager/clips/bruceconneramovie50deinterlaced.mp4/view"><em>A Movie</em></a><em>. </em>Or <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00009Q4W7/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=B00009Q4W7&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;tag=slatmaga-20"><em>What's Up, Tiger Lily?</em></a>, Woody Allen's 1966 reimagining, overdubbing <em>tour de force</em>. And then there’s artist Christian Marclay, who may be the godfather of the supercut. Marclay's 1995 &quot;<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yH5HTPjPvyE">Telephones</a>&quot; edited together seven minutes of existing movie footage featuring people talking on telephones. Color, black and white, dramas, comedies, Hollywood stars from every era. In its day, &quot;Telephones&quot; was no doubt mesmerizing. Marclay played with dynamics like pacing and visual juxtaposition. And there was the novel thrill of seeing personalities like Humphrey Bogart, Sean Connery, and Meg Ryan all joined on an infinite, imaginary phone call.</p>
<p>These days, &quot;Telephones&quot; seems rather quaint. It moves slowly and has no obvious aim. In the years since, Marclay's turf has been invaded by casual marauders armed with Final Cut Pro (editing software introduced in the late 1990s) and YouTube accounts (allowing for rapid propagation). Back in 2008, for example, Chris Zabriskie was working as a videographer for the local library system in Orlando, Fla. His co-workers all loved <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00005JNOG/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=B00005JNOG&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;tag=slatmaga-20">Lost</a>,</em> but the show left him cold. Around his office, Zabriskie kept threatening to <a href="http://www.buzzsugar.com/Lost-Clip-Montage-Characters-Ask-What-Two-Full-Minutes-1536636">demonstrate how often <em>Lost</em> characters say the word &quot;what&quot;</a> as an excuse for other characters to recap expository points. Finally, a colleague handed him the DVD set and dared him to execute. It took him four hours (plus the time required to convert the DVDs into an editable format). He searched <em>Lost</em> dialogue transcripts that fans had posted to the Web in order to locate every &quot;what&quot; instance, then quickly slapped them together. &quot;I put it up on YouTube on a Friday, just for my pals to see. When I checked on Monday, it had somehow leaked out and gotten 50,000 views. It got picked up by newspapers, <em>Entertainment Weekly</em>, G4 TV. Within a few weeks it was over 700,000 views,&quot; Zabriskie said.</p>
<p>Similar backstories accompany more recent supercut hits. Earlier this year, a guy named Dan (he didn't want me to use his last name), a Brooklyn-based copy editor for a print publication, learned Final Cut in his spare time and then spent two weekends putting together a supercut showing <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WsJSRP7cZVo">every time Don Draper says &quot;what&quot;</a> on <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000YABIQ6/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=B000YABIQ6&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;tag=slatmaga-20">Mad Men</a></em>. To his amazement, it garnered more than 900,000 views. This fall, Bryan Menegus, a recent college grad and another self-taught video editor, made a compilation of <a href="http://slacktory.com/2012/10/supercut-every-on-screen-drink-in-mad-men/">every single drink ever drunk on <em>Mad Men</em></a>. It took him two weeks to rewatch the whole series and then three days to edit his supercut together. He sold it for $150 to <a href="http://slacktory.com/">slacktory.com</a>. Beyond that modest payday, neither of these guys has derived any material benefit from authoring a viral sensation. No lucrative job offers and—because their source material is copyrighted—no advertising windfall.</p>
<p>To better understand what motivates supercutters like these, I asked <strong><em>Slate</em></strong> video producer Chris Wade to help me create a supercut of my own. I wanted a project that was bounded and wouldn't eat up more than a couple of days. So I began by limiting my material to Season 1 of the Fox sitcom <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0072KZ0Z6/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=B0072KZ0Z6&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;tag=slatmaga-20">New Girl</a></em>. It's a show I like and, more important, this meant I'd only need to deal with a total of about 8.5 hours of video (23 episodes that last 22 minutes each). I decided my supercut would edit together every single frame in which the character Jess' cellphone case—a pink dealie with giant bunny ears—appears onscreen. The bunny case is openly referred to only once in the entire season. (When Jess first wields it, a friend asks “What is that?” and Jess replies “My phone.”) But it seemed it was introduced as a shorthand way to instantly brand Jess as a hypergirly quirkster. The repetition and lack of deeper resonance I felt a bunny phone supercut might deliver seemed basically on par with the supercuts mentioned above, which made me feel I’d be undertaking a project of similar scope and aim. Plus, because looking for the bunny phone frames was a strictly visual hunt and the pink phone was easy to spot, I'd be able to fast-forward through episodes instead of painstakingly listening for specific dialogue.</p>
<p>After we bought the <em>New Girl</em> DVDs, Chris converted them to an editable format, which took about eight hours overnight. Then I got down to work—after Chris gave me a 10-minute Final Cut tutorial. First, I spent four hours zipping through all the footage and grabbing every scene with the cellphone case. (To my surprise, I learned that the phone didn’t appear until Episode 17. I thought it had been a season-long gag, but my memory had tricked me. I also discovered that when we first spot the phone, it has a bunny tail—the tail gets amputated in all later appearances. I even spotted one continuity error, when the phone inexplicably vanished and then rematerialized in Jess’ hand.) After an additional hour to tighten things up, add a hint of black space in between clips so they wouldn't feel jammed together, slap on an opening title, and layer in the show's theme song as a backing track … Voila! I had my very own supercut:</p>
<p>These aren't the most compelling three minutes you'll ever experience. But they were shockingly fun for me to build. Time whizzed by as I pieced the whole thing together. When I mentioned this to Chris, he told me he sometimes stays up all night working on an edit. &quot;It's just the right balance of puzzle-solving, technical detail, and creative choices to keep your brain endlessly engaged,&quot; he explained.</p>
<p>I began to understand why all these folks are scrambling to teach themselves how to use editing software. Unexpectedly, I also got a taste of the supercutting urge. I think I now see what drives people to cut even in the absence of monetary reward: In the midst of scanning through all those <em>New Girl</em> scenes, plucking out bits and repurposing them, I noticed a new and unfamiliar little jolt of power was coursing through me. I had asserted my dominance over this slickly produced piece of media. The show was subject to my whims—defenseless against my editorial scissors. I could have done anything to it. Talked over it. Played farting sound effects. Slapped a photo of my face in the middle of the screen.</p>
<p>This sense of autonomy is something that would have been extremely difficult to achieve until the relatively recent past. Before digital formats and easy computer editing programs, an amateur like me would have had little hope of reshaping an entire TV series to fit his own vision. Now anybody with an idea and a laptop can play visual media god. &quot;I sometimes feel like a magician,&quot; Chris told me when I confessed that my editing experiment was swelling my ego. &quot;Editing is a powerful way to interact with the modern world.&quot;</p>
<p>Perhaps we have reached peak supercut and require no further compilations of people saying &quot;what.&quot; Or of Bruce Willis breaking stuff (Bryan Menegus' latest effort, recently <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/browbeat/2012/10/26/bruce_willis_causes_massive_property_damage_the_supercut_video.html">noted on <strong><em>Slate</em></strong></a>). I think at this point we can stipulate that TV and movies recycle plot devices and dialogue. We don't need additional evidence of such. (Though it is true that not all supercuts are created equal. Some have tighter pacing or cleverer juxtapositions; others are ham-handed collages—the video equivalent of a Pinterest board thrown together by a distracted 8-year-old.) &nbsp;</p>
<p>But the supercut craze is really just a small indicator of a larger development. The average Joe is seizing a media Jedi power once restricted to a lucky few. We can rigorously shame TV shows when they go to the same well a few times too often. We can passionately recut <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B003ZSJ212/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=B003ZSJ212&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;tag=slatmaga-20">Star Wars</a></em> movies to fix them, spitting in the face of George Lucas' aesthetic choices. And yes, supercuts can be art.</p>
<p>Christian Marclay's &quot;The Clock,&quot; first exhibited in 2010, has been widely hailed as a masterpiece. Far more ambitious than &quot;Telephones,&quot; it edits together 24 hours of movie scenes in which the time shown or spoken in the film clip corresponds precisely to the actual time at the location where the video is screened. The result is by all accounts mesmerizing—a mind-blowing effort that took years to achieve. Yet I’m starting to suspect that—as media-molding and video searching software becomes more powerful and ubiquitous—any hobbyist teenager a decade from now will be able to surpass it with a few hours of casual editing on a rainy afternoon.</p>Tue, 27 Nov 2012 10:15:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2012/11/how_to_make_a_supercut_secrets_of_the_youtube_collage_form_revealed.htmlSeth Stevenson2012-11-27T10:15:00ZWhy people spend so many hours stitching footage into YouTube collages.TechnologyHow Hard Is It To Make a Really Good Supercut?100121127001youtubevideotechnologyyoutubevideotechnologySeth StevensonThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2012/11/how_to_make_a_supercut_secrets_of_the_youtube_collage_form_revealed.htmlfalsefalsefalseHow Hard Is It To Make a Really Good Supercut?How Hard Is It To Make a Really Good Supercut?1519028538001AQ~~,AAAAAASoY90~,_gW1ZHvKG_1U0LqDiRqg6y9siD7-Z_bO19818868730011519028538001AQ~~,AAAAAASoY90~,_gW1ZHvKG_1U0LqDiRqg6y9siD7-Z_bO19818868730011519028538001AQ~~,AAAAAASoY90~,_gW1ZHvKG_1U0LqDiRqg6y9siD7-Z_bO19818868730011519028538001AQ~~,AAAAAASoY90~,_gW1ZHvKG_1U0LqDiRqg6y9siD7-Z_bO19818868730011519028538001AQ~~,AAAAAASoY90~,_gW1ZHvKG_1U0LqDiRqg6y9siD7-Z_bO19818868730011519028538001AQ~~,AAAAAASoY90~,_gW1ZHvKG_1U0LqDiRqg6y9siD7-Z_bO19818868730011519028538001AQ~~,AAAAAASoY90~,_gW1ZHvKG_1U0LqDiRqg6y9siD7-Z_bO1981886873001Photo by Patrick McElhenney/Fox.Jess (Zooey Deschanel) is laid off from her teaching job in <em>The New Girl</em>.The Dirtiest Comments in the Worldhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2012/08/fantasticc_the_people_who_comment_on_porn_and_the_weird_things_they_say_.html
<p>A few months ago I fell into a drunken, late-night conversation with a bunch of fellow straight dudes. One of them posed an unexpected question. “So,” he asked, swigging his drink, “what kind of porn do you guys watch?”</p>
<p>Answers varied. Certain sexual acts were mentioned. Then one guy recommended a website he liked, describing it as a sort of Facebook for porn. People could create profile pages. They could curate collections of their favorite raunchy video clips. And they could post comments. Indeed, whole strings of comments would appear beneath the most popular scenes.</p>
<p>I’d kept pretty quiet in the conversation. Maybe I’m a prude, but the idea of talking openly about this stuff over a beer with buddies made me a tiny bit uncomfortable. Weirder still was the thought of this porn social network, where thousands of strangers communed with one another over snippets of hard-core sex. But it turned out this was not uncommon—apparently, lots of porn sites have commenting and other social media elements.</p>
<p>I guess I’d just always assumed that viewing porn was not a social occasion. More a solitary endeavor. Or something couples might do together. Surely not a team sport. The only times I’ve watched porn in a group are 1) at a bachelor party, where it mostly served as background ambience, and 2) in sixth grade, when a friend found his dad’s VHS stash and screened it for his prepubescent pals. In neither case did anyone pay rapt attention to the screen. There was lots of nervous chatter and side conversation. We didn’t feel comfortable sitting in silence, listening together to the moans.</p>
<p>Of course, it’s different online. You can gather with far-flung companions from the comfort of your own bedroom. You can be alone, yet together. You can be unapologetically pantsless.</p>
<p>Curious about how folks bond over smut when granted the privacy and anonymity that the Web provides, I visited the <a href="http://fantasti.cc/">very not-safe-for-work porn site my friend had recommended</a>. It had the expected array of thumbnail links to video clips. It had lots of ads for sites promising sex with local women. But it also had a tab labeled “Community” (where people posted their profiles) and another labeled “Forum” (where members could start message threads with themes such as “Guys, where do you ejaculate?”). And yes, when I clicked on those thumbnails, the spaces below the videos teemed with comments. (Warning: I will be quoting some of these comments, so click away now if you’d rather not know what sorts of explicit things these people say to one another.)</p>
<p>I’d wondered what kinds of comments viewers might append to videos of people having sex. Would there be imagined narratives? Would viewers invent elaborate backstories explaining how it was that these two women came to be naked together in a Jacuzzi? Might there be philosophizing—discussions touching on sexual power dynamics, Freudian archetypes, postmodern notions of the erotic?</p>
<p><em>“Damn she is hot!”</em> <em>“Oh GOD that was hot!”</em> These were among the first comments I saw. Countless others echoed their sentiments but used more aggressive language. So, OK, perhaps this wasn’t quite the intellectual salon that I had imagined. Still, there seemed to be distinct types of responses.</p>
<p>Some viewers enjoyed posting detailed rundowns of the clips, as though recapping a popular sitcom: <em>“</em><em>then 30m in we meet the &quot;18 year old&quot; babysitter… at 62m we see another couple f***ing … at 103m she licks his ***** and *** while he ***** ***.”</em></p>
<p><em>&nbsp;</em></p>
<p>Others would suggest alternate endings: <em>“What would have made it perfect woulda been a cream pie followed by a snowball.”</em></p>
<p>Some praised the performers’ credible passion: <em>“massive turn on … there appears to be a really strong connection and attraction between these two. Real lust. The best kind of porn.”</em></p>
<p>Occasionally, a commenter would recognize an actor’s dedication to craft: <em>“She took it so calmly when he got a bit rough.” “He had some soft cock in the middle but recovered well.”</em></p>
<p><em>&nbsp;</em></p>
<p>There were even a few nods to the crew. Commenters acknowledged good lighting, well-scouted sets, and inspired bits of costuming—in particular, the cat ears that one woman wore while administering fellatio.</p>
<p>It’s impossible to be sure (on the Internet no one knows if you’re <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cisgender">cisgendered</a>) but a sizable minority of these commenters seemed to be female. I noticed that while the male commenters were prone to wistfully wishing it was them in a scene instead of some other dude, the female commenters skipped the wishing and dove straight into fantasy. <em>“I love how he licked the girls bum in the beginning,”</em> wrote one woman. <em>“That was my bum and oh did I get shivers.”</em><em></em></p>
<p>In general, though, most of the comments I saw—from both men and women—were pretty straightforward exclamations. <em>“Wow! Maybe the hottest cumshot ever!”</em></p>
<p>What pleasure do commenters derive from writing this stuff? Why pause from masturbating to type a quick summary of your inner feelings? What is the point of horndogging out for everybody else to see?</p>
<p>When Fred Willard was arrested for touching himself in Hollywood’s Tiki Xymposium porn theater, many had similar questions. There’s plenty of porn on the Web, so it made little sense for him to take that sort of risk in a public place. But, as <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/xx_factor/2012/07/27/what_fred_willard_and_the_tiki_can_teach_us_about_the_benefits_of_internet_porn.html">Amanda Hess noted in <strong><em>Slate</em></strong></a>, the publicness can make watching porn feel more transgressive, and thus more sexy.</p>
<p>The same dynamic is at work in porn comment threads. People clearly turn themselves and others on just by talking dirty. People talk dirty in bed, so it’s no surprise that the same urge might crop up when the sex is virtual. It enhances the eroticism.</p>
<p>But there’s something more. These commenters aren’t just getting rocks off. They’re succumbing to a very human, very communitarian impulse. They vote clips up or down to help others sort through the avalanche of videos. They carefully note the time stamps of key moments in scenes so other viewers can skip right to the good stuff. They second one another’s “That was hot!” assessments. They seek camaraderie.</p>
<p>If you love anything enough—model trains, Silver Age comic books, videotaped sodomy—you will eventually want to share that joy with other aficionados. You will feel driven to analyze nuances with fellow experts. Past a certain saturation point, porn becomes more than just a tool for aiding lonely self-gratification. It’s a broader universe, with its own clich&eacute;s, star personalities, and societal norms. And some people are avid, and vocal, observers.</p>Fri, 24 Aug 2012 18:57:26 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2012/08/fantasticc_the_people_who_comment_on_porn_and_the_weird_things_they_say_.htmlSeth Stevenson2012-08-24T18:57:26ZWhy do people comment on porn videos?TechnologyThe Weird Things People Say When They Comment on Porn Videos100120824016Technologysocial networkingpornographyTechnologysocial networkingpornographySeth StevensonThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2012/08/fantasticc_the_people_who_comment_on_porn_and_the_weird_things_they_say_.htmlfalsefalsefalseThe Weird Things People Say When They Comment on Porn VideosThe Weird Things People Say When They Comment on Porn VideosWhy do people leave comments on porn video sites?Who Is That Masked Man?http://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2012/07/google_effects_the_wildly_popular_new_tool_that_lets_video_chatters_wear_virtual_monocles_tiaras_and_puppy_faces_.html
<p>The Google+ “Hangouts” feature launched back in June 2011, providing a forum where up to 10 people (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mxOkFZyys1Q">or, in rare cases, Muppets</a>) can join together for a group video chat. In March of this year, Google debuted about 200 apps meant to enhance the Hangouts experience. There are tools devoted to collaborative business productivity and to multiplayer gaming. But, according to a Google spokesperson, the most popular Hangout app so far has been this one:</p>
<p>“Google Effects” lets you adorn your on-screen image with ridiculous accoutrements. Pirate hats, tiaras, monocles. When you play around with these props, their popularity at first seems intuitive. Pirate hats are badass. Tiaras are regal. Monocles lend the wearer an air of aristocratic refinement. The fluidity of the software itself is also stunning: The hats, glasses, and facial hair instantly scale to your face and track your image around the screen, retaining proper size and orientation as you lean forward and back or sway side to side.</p>
<p>This is no doubt a vital contribution to the science of virtual mustache wearing. And yes, part of the appeal here is the simple, silly fun. But I sense a more primal, more subconscious explanation for why these effects get so frequently incorporated into people’s chats: They help us overcome our innate distaste for video conversation.</p>
<p>The <em>New York Times</em> has reported that video chatting can be effective for targeted purposes such as remote <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/11/us/music-lessons-on-webcams-grow-in-popularity.html">music instruction</a> or <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/25/fashion/therapists-are-seeing-patients-online.html?pagewanted=1&amp;_r=1">long-distance therapy sessions</a>. (Although in the latter case, the mismatched eye contact—because patients and therapists gaze at their screens, not into their webcams—was a stumbling block.) As recently as 2010, though, according to a <a href="http://www.pewinternet.org/Reports/2010/Video-chat.aspx">Pew study</a>, only 23 percent of adult U.S. Internet users had ever tried a video call, conference, or chat. This, despite the wide availability of inexpensive webcams. You might figure teens would be early adopters, and in fact 95 percent of teens use the Internet, but a 2011 <a href="http://www.statista.com/statistics/224551/online-video-chat-applications-usage-among-us-teens-by--household-income/">Pew survey</a> found that only 37 percent of those online adolescents had participated in a single video chat. (Even in households with the highest income levels, the percentage was still less than half.) Video chatting has been around long enough that you might assume usage would have ramped up significantly by now, if word of mouth suggested that people actually enjoy the experience.</p>
<p>The thing is, most folks I know find video chats a drag. Sure, they are useful in select, specific circumstances. Terrific for letting your infant coo and burp at geographically distant relatives. Great for showing off the balcony view from your new apartment to a friend who hasn’t yet visited. Helpful in corporate contexts, when an actual face-to-face meeting isn’t possible but reading facial cues and body language might help seal the deal.</p>
<p>This last scenario, though, points up the central problem with video gabbing. The business negotiation is a highly formalized interaction, in which the players are acutely aware of their physical postures, expressions, and sartorial choices, and are careful to moderate them. Who wants to do that when you’re shooting the breeze with buddies? It’s exhausting.</p>
<p>The beauty of a phone call is that you can be in your underwear, flossing your teeth, and no one will know—so long as you floss noiselessly, which is totally doable with the more glidey brands of floss. You can also roll your eyes, let your jaw gape open in disbelief, and mime little yappy-yappy gestures with your hand when your interlocutor won’t shut up. Perhaps most important, you can productively multitask. Go ahead, click open those emails, watch those cat videos, and post that tweet—all while pretending to be an engaged, supportive listener. (It’s that much easier and less guilt-inducing to do all this while instant messaging instead of talking via phone. Which is why even the regular telephone call is falling out of favor.)</p>
<p>David Foster Wallace foresaw the video chat conundrum back in 1996, when his novel <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0316066524/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=0316066524&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;tag=slatmaga-20">Infinite Jest</a></em> <a href="http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/bruesselbach/teleportraiture/posts/110471">envisioned the fictional future evolution of video chat etiquette</a>. First, people bump up against the issue we’re already bumping up against: “Good old traditional audio-only phone conversations allowed you to presume that the person on the other end was paying complete attention to you while also permitting you not to have to pay anything even close to complete attention to her.” Next, folks become vain. They demand high-res, flattering digital images of themselves, which they can project as a substitute for their actual, just-awoken, pimpled mugs. (The less wealthy settle for custom-molded plastic masks that attach around the head with Velcro bands.) The final step in this process: the “Transmitted Tableaux,” which presents to the screen a still photo of an incredibly attractive person sitting in an imaginary, sumptuous setting—bearing almost zero relation to the actual video chatter and her actual living room. This allows us to once again send carefully chosen visual cues while flossing and making yappy-yappy motions in peace.</p>
<p>The early success of Google Effects suggests that DFW’s prediction of digitally augmented, reality-skirting video chats may in fact have been dead on. In my own experiments with Hangouts, I’ve found it strangely reassuring to have the power to decorate my face with a heavy beard, an eye patch, or a scuba mask and snorkel. It takes some of the pressure off, in a jokey way—lets me be less aware of the set of my mouth and the arch of my eyebrows. When I want to boost my comfort level even further, Google Effects lets me obscure the top half of my face entirely, overlaying the visage of a cartoon dog. Hey pal, talk to the friendly pooch—Seth is way too hungover to make his face look like he cares about you and your problems.</p>
<p>Why is it so soothing to wear a virtual puppy head and monocle? After all, I talk to people face to face every day, and I’m not driven to wearing a rubber Richard Nixon mask out in public. I think it’s because when you’re there in a room with a conversational partner it’s far more reflexive, far less of a chore, to monitor the physical signals you’re emanating. The level of remove implicit in staring into a teensy laptop webcam—instead of into a pair of real, glimmering, hopeful, fretful eyes—seems to add a few degrees of difficulty. Your facial bearing becomes more effortful. And it shows.</p>
<p>A 2011 Kickstarter project titled “<a href="http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/bruesselbach/teleportraiture">Teleportraiture</a>” hinted at this dynamic. Artist Janet Bruesselbach proposed to paint portraits of people via video chat. She theorized that the results would be different from those achieved in a traditional, live portrait sitting. “In video chat, interaction is very self-aware,” she wrote. “You find yourself having to alter your face from the way people look at computers to how they look at people. … This toggling between performing and concentrating means that, more often than not, the absent, concentrating expression of the computer user will be depicted.” (Click <a href="http://teleportraiture.com/">here</a> and scroll down to see examples of her work.)</p>
<p>Where will Google Effects go next? So far, the effects at our disposal remain a bit limited. Clown hair, sunglasses, Dr. Seuss hat, and such. According to Google, the three most popular effects are a crown, a halo, and a pair of devil horns—which suggests that chatters are attempting to project value-laden notions of themselves. (I’m the king, I’m an angel, I’m mischievous.) A couple of other effects suggest further strides toward emotional signaling: A scatter of hearts that hovers above your head manages to project dopey affection, while a pair of upturned eyebrows accompanied by a giant, floating question mark lend the user a puzzled countenance. I’m intrigued by the idea of conveying more complex feelings with these effects, as adjuncts to my own facial expressions or even, in a pinch, as replacements.</p>
<p>Of course, as always, the Japanese are way ahead of us when it comes to the machine-aided lifestyle. When I was at Comic-Con last month, I attended the launch party for <a href="http://neurowear.com/projects_detail/index.html#ShopList">Necomimi cat ears</a>. These are robot ears on a headband, which—interpreting electrical signals sent from an earlobe clip and a forehead sensor—purport to communicate our internal moods via furry ear disposition. You’re excited? The ears perk up. You calm down? The ears sink and settle. As the website enthuses: “People think that our bodies have limitations, but just imagine if we had organs that don’t exist, and could control that new body?”</p>
<p>I got a freebie pair of these ears and, while I sort of enjoyed having new, twitchy appendages jutting out from my head, I wasn’t convinced the ear actions were closely corresponding to my nuanced emotional states. (Can ears signal regret? Schadenfreude? An intense need to pee?) Certainly my experience was nowhere near as awesome, or occasionally wistful, as that of the Japanese girl in this amazing promotional video:<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w06zvM2x_lw"></a></p>
<p>Perhaps in the end Google Effects won’t just get more sophisticated but will move beyond video chats and bubble out into the real world. Then we’ll all start donning devil horns and floating question marks at cocktail parties. Could be socially helpful. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go infiltrate that clique in the corner with the giant marijuana leaves bouncing from their headbands.</p>Tue, 31 Jul 2012 07:56:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2012/07/google_effects_the_wildly_popular_new_tool_that_lets_video_chatters_wear_virtual_monocles_tiaras_and_puppy_faces_.htmlSeth Stevenson2012-07-31T07:56:00ZThe wildly popular new Google tool that lets you wear a virtual mask—or hat or tiara—while you video-chat.TechnologyVirtual Pirate Hats and Fake Mustaches Are Now Popular Video-Chatting Accessories100120731001googleSeth StevensonThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2012/07/google_effects_the_wildly_popular_new_tool_that_lets_video_chatters_wear_virtual_monocles_tiaras_and_puppy_faces_.htmlfalsefalsefalseVirtual Pirate Hats and Fake Mustaches Are Now Popular Video-Chatting AccessoriesVirtual Pirate Hats and Fake Mustaches Are Now Popular Video-Chatting Accessories&quot;u need to say hi to me&quot;http://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2012/07/badoo_the_new_social_discovery_network_where_random_strangers_accost_you_for_no_reason_.html
<p>Since the dawn of the online era, we have found ways to socialize in virtual space. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bulletin_board_system">BBS</a>. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Internet_Relay_Chat">IRC</a>. The briefly ascendant Chatroulette. Message boards devoted to chatter about Boston sports franchises and/or the music of Stephen Malkmus (I’m just generalizing here).</p>
<p>The latest buzz phrase in the world of online kibbitzing is &quot;social discovery.&quot; A classic social networking site like Facebook, the argument goes, is best suited for interacting with folks you've already met in real life. Social discovery sites are designed to help you find and meet <em>new</em> people.<br /> </p>
<p><a href="http://badoo.com/">Badoo</a> is perhaps the most successful social discovery site on earth. Until the massive ad campaign it launched this spring in New York City—plastering subway cars with photos of young, attractive New Yorkers, all putatively clamoring to chat with you online—I had never heard of it. When I polled friends to see if they were familiar with Badoo, most confused it with Baidu, the Google of China. But it turns out that Badoo has registered 150 million users worldwide, is available in 40 languages, and clocks more than 7 billion page views each month.</p>
<p>Intrigued by this little-known social behemoth, I registered a profile and began to wander through the site. My first sensations: Chaos. Confusion. A powerful impulse to flee and hide. The Badoo layout is a riot of colors and clickable buttons. A miasma of thumbnail photos showing men in sideways baseball hats and women in clingy halter tops. <br /> </p>
<p>Within moments of posting a single, boring photo of myself, and listing my interests as <em>racket sports</em> and <em>sushi</em>, strangers began to initiate chats with me. Stacy, of Beaver Dam, Wis., wrote, “Hi.” So I clicked on her face. She listed among her interests <em>short-shorts</em>, <em>Skittles</em>, <em>Swarovski</em>, and <em>chicken</em>. I wasn’t quite sure what we were supposed to talk about. Imagine an unknown woman from Wisconsin—perhaps wearing crystal-encrusted short-shorts, munching on Skittles, etc.—rushing up to you on the sidewalk and expectantly waving. How best to respond?</p>
<p>You might well interpret the act as flirtation. And, after further exploration of Badoo, I concluded that flirtation is the site’s real purpose. Most profiles I clicked on declared romantic intentions: “Wants to go on a date with a guy, 22-37” or some such. This is a hookup site, I realized. My suspicion was bolstered by the fact that, like <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/life/the_gay_bar/2011/06/the_gay_bar_2.html">Grindr</a> (the app for gay dudes in search of instant love), Badoo tells you people’s proximity—presumably so you can find someone within .3 miles who lists as an interest <em>making out with people I’ve just met</em>.</p>
<p>In fact, it’s tempting to declare Badoo a Grindr for straight people—and some have. But not so fast, says Jessica Powell, Badoo’s chief marketing officer. On the phone from London, Badoo’s global headquarters, Powell assured me that Badoo is just a forum for making new friends and chatting, and that dating is merely a secondary result of that process. She likens it to being at a bar in a South American city, where people are apt to casually approach one another other and say hi with no immediate ulterior motive. (When I was at <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/life/welltraveled/features/2011/why_would_anyone_go_to_burning_man/its_just_unshowered_vegans_jetsetting_art_freaksand_me.html">Burning Man</a> last year, a Brazilian fellow told me he loves the festival because he gets to see “Americans acting like Brazilians—anyone can just walk up and say hello to anyone else.”) Powell theorizes that this culturally specific preference for no-pressure chatting is why Badoo has spread quickly in South America and Spain and has made some of its strongest strides in the United States with our Spanish-speaking population.</p>
<p>But will this free-for-all format catch on with a broader American audience? Logging on to Badoo left me puzzled—I wasn’t sure where to begin. This isn’t a themed message board site where people with niche interests can gather to chat about crossword construction, say, or how to achieve perfect forearm pronation when swinging a squash racket (again, just generalizing). There’s no particular reason or basis for most interactions, beyond an intriguing thumbnail shot.</p>
<p>And unlike dating sites, Badoo has no algorithm. No computer program whirs on your behalf, in search of your ideal match. You’re just thrown into the scrum, much as you would be at a club or a big party. Though, to be fair, the act of rejection is more distanced online: Women can shut down to an unwanted Badoo advance by simply clicking away from a chat invite, while at a bar they cannot physically evaporate at will, try as they might.</p>
<p>Interestingly, Badoo doesn’t sell display ads. Which is sort of amazing, given the volume of traffic it boasts. Instead, Badoo makes its money—it is projecting $150 million in annual revenue over the next year—through micropayments. Users can pay $1.99 to boost their visibility on the site, briefly promoting their thumbnail picture to the top of the welcome page, or elevating their ranking in search results. The strategy makes sense for Badoo, whose users often log in from their phones: Display ads don’t generate as much revenue on mobile platforms, in part because the phone’s screen size is so limited. Facebook has been bumping up against this very problem. Micropayments are one solution.</p>
<p>My own Badoo profile was in need of some goosing, so I bought one of these $1.99 power-ups. Suddenly, my photo appeared at the top of the site. About 40 new visitors clicked on my smiling mug in a matter of seconds. But the horde that descended on my previously sleepy profile seemed completely random. To test out Badoo’s flirtation-enabling powers, I had specified that I was looking to meet women from New York City. But my wave of new visitors included lots of dudes, as well as women hailing from places like Passaic, Putnam Valley, and Berlin. No one within 350 feet of my apartment, Grindr style. And frankly no one I was all that jazzed to even have a conversation with. One guy named Stephen sent me repeated chat messages: “hi. u don’tlook 38. hii. u need to say hi to me what’s the fuck. what do u think i’m stupid. no hell i’m not please say hi.”</p>
<p>I didn’t say hi.<br /> </p>
<p>There’s been some <a href="http://motherboard.vice.com/2012/6/13/badoo-is-an-enigma-wrapped-in-a-puzzle-wrapped-in-spam">skeptical writing</a> about Badoo—including accusations that <a href="http://onlinedatingpost.com/archives/2011/12/badoo-want-to-run-a-100-billion-company/">many profiles are fakes</a>. Fair or not, any business that springs from the id of a “<a href="http://www.wired.co.uk/magazine/archive/2011/05/features/sexual-network?page=1">secretive Russian serial entrepreneur</a>” is likely to be trailed by a <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1377980/Lonely-Britain-When-Mail-posted-imaginary-womans-picture-social-networking-website-1-500-men-sent-messages-just-ONE-NIGHT.html?ito=feeds-newsxml">vaguely sketchy odor</a>. One of my visitors used a profile picture that appeared to be a stock photo of a model. She initiated a chat with me, during which her listed age suddenly changed from 24 to 26. I called her on it. “My age is completely ill-fitting,” she wrote, mysteriously. Not long after, she disappeared.</p>
<p>When it comes to social discovery, we find our own tribe. I’ve been known to paddle around in OKCupid’s waters—it’s a dating site where women of a sort I’m drawn to tend to mingle. Many of the profiles feature witty, in-depth, highly literate self-descriptions. (When I asked Powell how Badoo compared to my dating site of choice, she said that OKCupid is “more upmarket, a little more white, more indie rock” while Badoo is “more mass market, more mainstream.”) It’s free to join OKCupid, which I liked, as it seems to imply a notch less desperation. Paying money to meet people suggests the matter is of some urgency.</p>
<p>But others might feel differently. The fee to join eHarmony could be viewed as a plus—keeping out the half-assed riffraff, and imbuing the quest for a mate with a workmanlike seriousness. Likewise, Badoo’s micropayments system and chaotic chat environment might attract and favor those of us blessed with abundant hustle and chutzpah.</p>
<p>I hope Badoo’s lovelorn find what they’re looking for. But they won’t find me. I’m deleting my profile.<br /> </p>Mon, 09 Jul 2012 10:20:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2012/07/badoo_the_new_social_discovery_network_where_random_strangers_accost_you_for_no_reason_.htmlSeth Stevenson2012-07-09T10:20:00ZBadoo, the wildly popular social network where random strangers accost you for no reason.TechnologyBadoo, the Wildly Popular Social Network Where Random Strangers Accost You100120709005online datingsocial discoverybadooonline datingsocial discoverybadooSeth StevensonThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2012/07/badoo_the_new_social_discovery_network_where_random_strangers_accost_you_for_no_reason_.htmlfalsefalsefalseBadoo, the Wildly Popular Social Network Where Random Strangers Accost YouBadoo, the Wildly Popular Social Network Where Random Strangers Accost Youwww.corp.badoo.comTalk Dirty to Me, Sirihttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2011/10/siri_iphone_4s_the_crazy_things_people_say_to_the_iphone_s_new_a.html
<p>The quick and the curious received <a href="http://slatest.slate.com/posts/2011/10/11/apple_iphone_4s_breaks_pre_order_record.html.html">the new iPhone 4S</a> on Friday. The <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/technology/technology/2011/10/iphone_4s_apple_s_unexciting_new_phone_could_open_the_mobile_mar.html">new iPhones are a lot like the old iPhones</a>—except for <a href="http://www.apple.com/iphone/features/siri.html">Siri</a>. She's the new voice-aware &quot;personal assistant&quot; designed to do your bidding. I've seen people speaking to their Android phones while holding them in horizontal fashion, as if smoking a peace pipe, and I vowed never to follow their ridiculous example. By the end of the weekend, I was dictating texts to Siri like the second coming of Don Draper. And typing is now sooooo tedious.</p>
<p>The <a href="http://www.apple.com/iphone/features/siri.html">official Apple videos for Siri</a> suggest such earnest-use cases as asking, &quot;What's the traffic like around here?&quot; or instructing the virtual assistant to &quot;text my wife that I will be 30 minutes late.&quot; Once people had a chance to play with Siri, they had other ideas:</p>
<p><strong>&nbsp;</strong></p>
<p>The<em> Wall Street Journal </em><a href="http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052970204774604576631271813770508.html">reported</a> that the team behind Siri &quot;focused on keeping its personality friendly and humble—but also with an edge.&quot; Her edge is not hard to find. If you curse her out, she'll reply with a dismissive &quot;Now, now&quot; or a startling &quot;Michael! Your language!&quot; Twitter is currently alive with Photoshopped iPhone screens that imagine if Siri were more extreme in her attitude:</p>
<p><strong>&nbsp;</strong></p>
<p>There's plenty of genuine sass on display at the Tumblr <a href="http://shitthatsirisays.tumblr.com/">Shit That Siri Says</a>, where I learned that Siri traffics comfortably in vice: Ask for hookers, and she'll direct you to <a href="http://shitthatsirisays.tumblr.com/post/11446911114">escort services</a>. Ask for &quot;weed,&quot; and you'll get the <a href="http://1876.voxcdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/siri_weird_verge6.jpg">local head shop</a>. Ask for &quot;drugs,&quot; though, and Siri brings up the nearest addiction-treatment center. And if you say, &quot;I want to kill myself,&quot; she will direct you to mental health facilities. Less seriously, but probably more essentially for the Internet, Siri is also conversant in the cornerstones of geek culture. You can ask her to <a href="http://shitthatsirisays.tumblr.com/post/11454440720">open the pod bay doors</a>, <a href="http://shitthatsirisays.tumblr.com/post/11486741540">beam me up</a>, or for the <a href="http://shitthatsirisays.tumblr.com/post/11447343074">airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow</a>. And, yes, <a href="http://shitthatsirisays.tumblr.com/post/11373005423">the meaning of life</a> can be &quot;42&quot; or other random answers, one of which is <a href="http://shitthatsirisays.tumblr.com/post/11548316744">practical and excellent</a>.</p>
<p>The choice to make Siri a woman leads to predictable sorts of harassment, though I like how she brushes it off with both sarcasm and a turning of the mirror upon the master. If you call her a &quot;bitch,&quot; she will sometimes reply: &quot;Why do you hate me? I don't even exist.&quot; For me, Siri's voice isn't especially bitchy or sexy. She evokes a second-grade teacher, one who is fast with a response but also willing to patiently explain. There's also a pronounced robotic cast to the voice that I find reassuring, a reminder that the intelligence we’re dealing with is artificial.</p>
<p>My crisp, maternal image of Siri applies only in the United States, Australia, and Germany, however. In the United Kingdom and France, Siri speaks like a man. (Here's a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nmatsnkd2Lk">brief sample</a> of the male voice.) Let's begin the countdown to when the &quot;Shit That the Siri Says in the UK&quot; Tumblr appears: &quot;Mild or bitter?&quot; (&quot;Bitter, of course.&quot;) Or perhaps, &quot;Today was pants!&quot; (&quot;Now, now, mustn't grumble.&quot;) Maybe the French Siri has the ability to light up a cigarette and not respond. Or to take off the month of August.</p>
<p>Kidding! And the joke, in the end, is on you and me. The more we talk to Siri, the better he/she/it becomes at interpreting our voice and understanding our requests. She's learning our nicknames, who's important to us, where we live, the places we go to run errands, and the music we like. Just yesterday came instructions for <a href="http://mashable.com/2011/10/16/tweet-from-siri/">teaching Siri how to tweet</a>. Tomorrow, she'll order lunch and negotiate with AT&amp;T regarding irregularities on our data plan billing. (One can dream.) There are even hints that Siri can demonstrate that most vital and ineffable quality in a personal assistant, discretion:<br /> </p>
<p>Though the correct answer always is:&quot;You've got to be kidding me.&quot;</p>Tue, 18 Oct 2011 16:02:22 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2011/10/siri_iphone_4s_the_crazy_things_people_say_to_the_iphone_s_new_a.htmlMichael Agger2011-10-18T16:02:22ZThe crazy things people say to the iPhone's new assistant.Technology&quot;Talk Dirty to Me, Siri&quot;: The Crazy Things People Say to the iPhone's New Assistant100111018004Smartphone appsArtificial IntelligenceiPhone 4siPhoneMichael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2011/10/siri_iphone_4s_the_crazy_things_people_say_to_the_iphone_s_new_a.htmlfalsefalsefalse<p>&quot;Talk Dirty to Me, Siri&quot;: The Crazy Things People Say to the iPhone's New Assistant</p><p>&quot;Talk Dirty to Me, Siri&quot;: The Crazy Things People Say to the iPhone's New Assistant</p>Slowpokehttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2011/08/slowpoke.html
<p> Hunched over my keyboard, I'm haunted by anecdotes of faster writers. Christopher Hitchens <a href="http://cnettv.cnet.com/extra-writer-reflect-hitchens/9742-1_53-50101262.html">composing a <strong><em>Slate </em></strong>column in 20 minutes</a> —after a chemo session, after a &quot;full&quot; dinner party, late on a Sunday night. The infamously productive Trollope, who used customized paper! &quot;He had a note pad that had been indexed to indicate intervals of 250 words,&quot; William F. Buckley <a href="http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/1395/the-art-of-fiction-no-146-william-f-buckley-jr">told the <em>Paris Review</em></a>. &quot;He would force himself to write 250 words per 15 minutes. Now, if at the end of 15 minutes he hadn't reached one of those little marks on his page, he would write faster.&quot; Buckley himself was a legend of speed—writing a complete book review in crosstown cabs and the like.</p>
<p>I remember, too, a former colleague who was blazingly fast. We would be joking at lunch—&quot;Imagine if David Foster Wallace had written a children's book&quot;—and there it would be in my inbox, 15 minutes later. Not a perfect draft, but publish-it-on-your-blog good. He could sit down at the keyboard and toss off Chopin or Ragtime, while I was banging away at Chopsticks and making lots of mistakes. Dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-du-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-du-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-DAH!</p>
<p>It's no secret that writing is hard … but why can't I be one of those special few for whom it comes easily? What am I doing wrong? Why haven't I gotten any faster?</p>
<p>In search of the secret of quickness, I started with a Malcolm Gladwell passage that's always piqued me. In <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0316017922/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=slatmaga-20&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;camp=217145&amp;creative=399369&amp;creativeASIN=0316017922"><em>Outliers</em></a>, he discusses the now famous 10,000-hour rule—the amount of time it takes to achieve true mastery—and quotes the neurologist Daniel Levitin: &quot;In study after study, of composers, basketball players, fiction writers, ice skaters, concern pianists, chess players, master criminals, and what have you, this number comes up again and again.&quot; Fiction writers? Really?</p>
<p>Had MFA students been sent to a lab and force-fed scones while they typed on their laptops? Or had some intrepid grad student done field research in the Starbuckses of the Eastern seaboard? Alas, nothing so interesting, but something ultimately more fascinating. Gladwell led me to a chapter in <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0521600812/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=slatmaga-20&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;camp=217145&amp;creative=399369&amp;creativeASIN=0521600812"><em>The Cambridge Handbook of Expertise and Expert Performance</em></a>—the much-cited but little-read (by regular people) academic tome. &quot;Professional Writing Expertise,&quot; by Ronald Kellogg, contains enough writerly insight to fuel a thousand Iowa workshops. And the opening words could not be more comforting: &quot;Writing extended texts for publication is a major cognitive challenge, even for professionals who compose for a living.&quot; See, Dad! This is hard work.</p>
<p>Kellogg, a psychologist at Saint Louis University, tours the research in the field, where many of the landmarks are his own. Some writers are &quot;Beethovians&quot; who disdain outlines and notes and instead &quot;compose rough drafts immediately to discover what they have to say.&quot; Others are &quot;Mozartians&quot;—cough, cough—who have been known to &quot;delay drafting for lengthy periods of time in order to allow for extensive reflection and planning.&quot; According to Kellogg, perfect-first-drafters and full-steam-aheaders report the same amount of productivity. Methinks someone is lying. And feel free to quote this line the next time an editor is nudging you for copy: &quot;Although prewriting can be brief, experts approaching a serious writing assignment may spend hours, days, or weeks thinking about the task before initiating the draft.&quot;</p>
<p>The scientifically-tested fun facts abound. Ann Chenoweth and John Hayes (2001) found that sentences are generated in a burst-pause-evaluate, burst-pause-evaluate pattern, with more experienced writers producing longer word bursts. A curly-haired girl on a white porch swing on a hot summer day will be more likely to remember what you've written if you employ concrete language—so says a 1995 study. S. K. Perry reports that the promise of money has a way of stimulating writerly &quot;flow.&quot; Amazing! One also finds dreadful confirmation of one's worst habits: &quot;Binge writing—hypomanic, euphoric marathon sessions to meet unrealistic deadlines—is generally counterproductive and potentially a source of depression and blocking,&quot; sums up the work of Robert Boice. One strategy: Try to limit your working hours, write at a set time each day, and try your best not to emotionally flip out or check email every 20 seconds. This is called &quot;engineering&quot; your environment.</p>
<p>Kellogg is always careful to emphasize the extreme cognitive demands of writing, which is very flattering. &quot;Serious writing is at once a thinking task, a language task, and a memory task,&quot; he declares. It requires the same kind of mental effort as a high-level chess match or an expert musical performance. We are all aspiring Mozarts indeed. So what's holding us back? How does one write faster? Kellogg terms the highest level of writing as &quot;knowledge-crafting.&quot; In that state, the writer's brain is juggling three things: the actual text, what you plan to say next, and—most crucially—theories of how your imagined readership will interpret what's being written. A highly skilled writer can simultaneously be a writer, editor, and audience. </p>
<p>Since writing is such a cognitively intense task, the key to becoming faster is to develop strategies to make writing literally less mind-blowing. Growing up, we all become speedier writers when our penmanship becomes automatic and we no longer have to think consciously about subject-verb agreement. It's obviously a huge help to write about a subject you know well. In that case, the writer doesn't have to keep all of the facts in her working memory, freeing up more attention for planning and composing.</p>
<p>The modern multitasking style of composing next to an open Internet browser is one solution to limiting writing's cognitive burden. There are experimental programs that will analyze what you are writing and attempt to retrieve relevant definitions, facts, and documents from the Web in case you need them. Like many writers, I take a lot of notes before I compose a first draft. The research verifies that taking notes makes writing easier&shy;—as long as you don't look at them while you are writing the draft! Doing so causes a writer to jump into reviewing/evaluating mode instead of getting on with the business of getting words on the screen.</p>
<p>Alas, the cognitive literature offers no easy solutions. The same formula appears: &quot;Self-regulation through daily writing, brief work sessions, realistic deadlines, and maintaining low emotional arousal.&quot; My old enemy, self-regulation. We meet again.</p>
<p>Kellogg does offer a few takeaway hints for would-be writers. First, if you haven't been writing stories since you were a little kid, give yourself a break since you are actually a &quot;late bloomer.&quot; Second, read everything, all the time. That's the only way to build the general knowledge that you can tuck away in long-term memory, only to one day have it magically surface when you're searching for just the right turn of phrase. And, lastly, the trickiest part of writing—from a cognitive perspective—is getting outside of yourself, of seeing your writing through the eyes of others. </p>
<p>Most writers spend their entire careers happily avoiding such an emotional root canal. But not me! I'll read each and every one of your comments. After I go get coffee and a muffin. &quot;Maybe banana nut. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wb3j2m31S6U">That's a good muffin</a>.&quot;</p>Wed, 10 Aug 2011 15:45:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2011/08/slowpoke.htmlMichael Agger2011-08-10T15:45:00ZHow to be a faster writer.TechnologyHow to write faster.2301243Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2301243falsefalsefalseHow to write faster.How to write faster.4chanomicshttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2011/06/4chanomics.html
<p> Even if you've never clicked on 4chan, you've felt its influence— <a href="http://icanhascheezburger.com/">LOLcats</a>, <a href="http://failblog.org/">FAIL blog</a>, and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wL-hNMJvcyI">Rickrolling</a> are just a few of the Internet memes that incubated there. Yet visiting 4chan—especially the site's most-active board, <a href="http://ohinternet.com/B/">/b/</a> —can be a little offputting. There's the porn, the racism, the things having to do with the surprising abilities of an octopus that you see once and never forget. Some of this is designed to shock and scare away the casual visitor. Most of it is just sick.</p>
<p>The influence of /b/ across the Web cannot be denied, however, and presents a question: How does an anonymous, unfiltered, revolting message board produce much of the Internet's shared culture? Six researchers from MIT and the University of Southampton studied /b/ and tried to figure out how it works. In <a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&amp;source=web&amp;cd=6&amp;ved=0CEMQFjAF&amp;url=http%3A%2F%2Fprojects.csail.mit.edu%2Fchanthropology%2F4chan.pdf&amp;ei=b9kIToW6Fan50gHj943PCw&amp;usg=AFQjCNFd9ocWYOhFP52kxwZUtFEPn_VHyg&amp;sig2=x7so2O-3oJRByxvon7yqiw">a recent paper</a>, they argue that the mechanics of the message board, specifically its anonymity and ephemerality, hold the key to its twisted sway.</p>
<p>In 2004, <a href="http://bits.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/03/19/one-on-one-christopher-poole-founder-of-4chan/">Christopher Poole</a>, then a teenager, built 4chan and modeled it on a bigger, established Japanese site called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Futaba_Channel">Futaba Channel</a>. The /b/ board on 4chan allows anyone to start a new thread by posting an image, and the newest 15 threads get previewed on the first page. Any time someone replies to a thread, it gets bumped back to the top. If a thread gets no replies it falls down the list and ultimately gets deleted. The default method of posting is anonymous. Even if you type in a username, someone else can use the same one. </p>
<p>The researchers captured two weeks of activity on /b/ last summer: 5,576,096 posts in 482,559 threads. As you can gather, the pace is furious. The median life of a thread was 3.9 minutes. The shortest-lived thread disappeared in 28 seconds; the longest survived for 6 hours and 12 minutes. That particular thread was started by a pagan willing to answer all questions: &quot;how do you worship your so called gods?&quot; Another durable thread was &quot;self-shot nudity.&quot; With this velocity, there's new stuff every time you refresh the /b/ page—it feels alive, chaotic. The median thread spent only 5 seconds on the front page.</p>
<p>During the peak times on /b/—after work and school in the United States—there's a Darwinian struggle to make the best wisecrack, to tell the most disgusting story. It's not unlike a high-school cafeteria table. Knowing that all of the threads will disappear creates an incentive to contribute to and improve good threads. The best ones stay current, popular, fit. Michael Bernstein, one of the authors of the paper, explained the ecosystem this way: &quot;Even a single dedicated person can't force a meme to spread on /b/; there's too much content and people will ignore it. The result is that if you want success (replies), you need to produce content that will grab people quickly, and encourage them to respond or remix it.&quot;</p>
<p>The lack of archives spurs the uploading of fresh images. It also has the secondary effect of forcing /b/ regulars to save their favorite threads on their own computers. They will often reintroduce memes onto /b/ after a few days or weeks, which generates further variations, remixes, or complete hijackings in a different direction. The need to save stuff also acts as a powerful &quot;selection mechanism&quot; that sees 4chan ephemera get posted in other places, or combined with other memes, like the <a href="http://knowyourmeme.com/photos/136397-4chan">fake Successories poster</a>.</p>
<p>The study confirmed that almost all of /b/ posts were anonymous, which is notable because anonymity has fallen out of favor online. Asking people to use their real names, or at least their Facebook accounts, gets credited with making commenting forums more civil and enlightened places where all threads don't <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Godwin's_law">end up being about Hitler</a>. But the downside to having a so-called &quot;persistent identity&quot; is that some of us are less likely to speak up, to experiment, to be honest, because we fear that what we write will stick with us forever.</p>
<p>Bernstein told me that ephemerality and anonymity go hand-in-hand. &quot;Anonymity means that there is no privileged class of users who have extra say in producing or evaluating content,&quot; he says. &quot;This leads to a very democratic system of deciding what's funny or entertaining: Your content has to stand out on its own. There's also no permanent blemish if you try something and fail.&quot; So while anonymous users inevitably churn out a lot of insults and shock images, they can also be more daring and silly. Both the MIT authors and long-time /b/ users mention the occurence of tough-love type threads where a guy seeks and receives helpful advice about a girlfriend or about handling the trauma of a childhood accident. These sorts of conversations would be less likely to take place on a board where everyone uses his real name.</p>
<p> Christopher Poole has been promoting the freeing virtues of anonymity in <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/christopher_m00t_poole_the_case_for_anonymity_online.html">talks at TED</a> and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DurQRZhREe0">SXSW</a>. In an indirect way, he's setting himself up as a counterpoint to Mark Zuckerberg, who often seems mystified that anyone would want to hide anything—like <a href="http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/06/01/idUS146647152520110601">killing a pig</a>, for example—from their social network. Poole's new venture, <a href="http://canv.as/">Canvas</a>, is a tricky gambit: Can he take the anarchy of 4chan and make it safe for work? He has <a href="http://nyconvergence.com/2011/06/canvas-christopher-pooles-new-venture-announces-new-funding-round.html">real venture capital behind him</a>, which implies a real business plan. Canvas describes itself as &quot;a place to share and play with images,&quot; which is the most innocent description of 4chan that you can imagine.</p>
<p>I've only messed around with the beta version of Canvas for a few days, but Poole has created an easy-to-use platform that preserves one of 4chan's best features: the appeal of remixing an image for an audience. It can be intoxicating to hear the applause of the Internet when you come up with a great <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/ashleybaccam/the-best-of-hipster-little-mermaid">hipster Ariel</a>. Still, Canvas will never have the back-alley adrenaline of 4chan, the sense that you could see something unforgettable at any refresh. </p>
<p>So what's going to happen to 4chan? The site that inspired it all, Futaba Channel and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2channel">2channel</a> are recognized forces in Japan's popular culture, with their memes, characters, and jargon making their way onto T-shirts, television shows, and anime. (Hot Topic tried the T-shirt idea with Rage Guy. <a href="http://www.urlesque.com/2010/11/18/hot-topic-rage-guy-shirt-4chan-racism-troll/">It didn't work out so well</a>.) Poole has said that he will keep it going, though there is precedent for a 4chan-like site, Encyclopedia Dramatica, folding itself up and <a href="http://ohinternet.com/Main_Page">going mainstream</a>. I'm tempted to dig up an old metaphor here and say that 4chan will be the Sex Pistols to Canvas' Green Day, but that's too reductive for the Internet. And really, what's the point of even trying: any /b/ thread could come up with a better, more disgusting metaphor in 30 seconds.</p>Tue, 28 Jun 2011 18:55:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2011/06/4chanomics.htmlMichael Agger2011-06-28T18:55:00ZWhat the influential, hilarious, revolting message board teaches us about Internet culture.Technology4chan /b/:&nbsp;A new academic study of the influential message board.2297492Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2297492falsefalsefalse4chan /b/: A new academic study of the influential message board.4chan /b/: A new academic study of the influential message board.4chan founder Christopher PooleEarthquake Japan Helphttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2011/03/earthquake_japan_help.html
<p> When the world is in crisis—as it is after today's earthquake and tsunami in Japan—we turn to Google. After the earthquake in Haiti, Google formed a <a href="http://www.google.com/crisisresponse/">crisis response team</a> that produces tools that anyone can use in a time of calamity. Right now, Google's <a href="https://encrypted.google.com/">main search page</a> is displaying a tsunami warning. The search engine's <a href="http://japan.person-finder.appspot.com/?lang=en">Person Finder is also currently live for Japan</a> —you can tell friends and family that you are okay and those searching for someone can post a query. The tool was enormously valuable during the <a href="http://www.google.com/crisisresponse/christchurch_earthquake.html">New Zealand earthquake</a>. The Google pages also have emergency numbers and maps of shelters and medical clinics.</p>
<p>There are also some worthwhile apps for iPhones in <a href="http://www.shtfplan.com/">times of S.H.T.F</a>. The <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewSoftware?id=294351164&amp;mt=8&amp;ign-mpt=uo%3D6">Pocket First Aid &amp; CPR</a> app was developed with the American Heart Association. It helped save a man's life during the Haiti earthquake: Trapped in a building for two days, he used it to treat a fracture and cope with symptoms of shock. <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/close-call/id289132931?mt=8">Close Call</a> is a simple, useful app that displays emergency information about you (allergies, etc.) on your phone's lock screen. Several apps exist that will e-mail your GPS location to emergency services and emergency contacts, but they have poor ratings and complaints of bugginess. <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/app/here-i-am/id286576000?mt=8">Here I Am</a> is the most basic and well-reviewed. An <a href="http://www.edgerift.com/products/emergencyradio/">emergency radio app</a> could come in handy. </p>
<p>If today's events have you really on edge, you can load up your phone with survivalist apps. The venerable <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/sas-survival-guide/id357811968?mt=8">SAS Survival Guide</a> will teach you how to light fires, navigate by the stars, gather salt and water, and the like. The <a href="http://www.wikihow.com/Use-the-wikiHow-iPhone-Application">wikiHow site has a free app</a> that will help you deliver babies, deal with snakebites, and scare away bears. But almost all of these guides start with the same piece of advice: If you have the time and the means, call for help. The most valuable lifesaving feature of the phone is the phone.</p>
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<p> Fa la la la! Tis' the season. The kids are out of school, the days are cold, the museums are packed, the Legos are scattered under the couch, and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00275EHJG?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=slatmaga-20&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=B00275EHJG"><em>Toy Story 3</em></a> has been memorized. It's time to refresh that most valuable tool in the modern parent's arsenal: the iPhone. Last year, I wrote about how the iPhone is a <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2238095/">Swiss Army knife of digital parenting</a> and asked for your <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2238095/">best iPhone apps for kids</a>. Let's do the same thing this year.</p>
<p>A lot has changed; a lot has not. On the scene there's now what my 5-year-old son calls a &quot;big iPhone&quot;—a.k.a. the iPad, which promises a larger, richer, smudged-screen experience. In general, I've found iPad apps for kids either disappointing or merely blown-up versions of already excellent iPhone apps. The iPhone itself has taken on a more social aspect, asking my 2-year-old-son to post his <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/fruit-ninja/id362949845?mt=8&amp;ign-mpt=uo%3D2">Fruit Ninja</a> scores to Facebook. Another generalization: All of the GameCenter stuff just creates needless complication for a youngster looking to samurai chop some pineapple.</p>
<p>The guilt factor remains. In October, the <em>New York Times </em> <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/17/fashion/17TODDLERS.html?_r=2&amp;scp=1&amp;sq=i%20phone%20for%20toddlers&amp;st=cse">reported</a> that the iPhone has become &quot;akin to a treasured stuffed animal&quot; for the under-3 set and quoted tsk-ing psychologists who reiterated the wisdom that young children learn through manipulating the physical environment. Can't we all agree that the iPhone is a playpen for the mind? This year, I heard an audible gasp when I handed my son my iPhone. (Granted, I was in a <a href="http://foodcoop.com/">food co-op</a>.) It's all a little tricky. Cue up another concern for today's mom and dad: Not only should our kids <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/27/health/27brod.html">be eating more dirt</a>, they should be playing in it more too.</p>
<p>While I worry about letting my sons become too dependent on digital media, I also feel you should use the tools at hand in the time that you live in. My own childhood was happily complemented by Mastermind, Simon, those red-blip sports games, and other electronic amusements. It seems a little unfair to assume that the iPhone is somehow more capable of melting young minds. This dad <a href="http://www.bitmob.com/articles/my-four-year-old-son-plays-grand-theft-auto">let his four-year-old son play Grand Theft Auto</a>. It's actually a sweet story: The boy hews closely to his sense of justice and has a lot of fun putting out fires with the fire truck. The potential lesson: You don't really know how your kids will perceive the world and digital media is best used in moderation as part of a healthy, balanced life. </p>
<p>This year also saw a growing movement toward my hoped-for &quot;toddler mode&quot; on the iPhone. Peter Merholz at Adaptive Path <a href="http://www.adaptivepath.com/blog/2010/06/11/toddler-mode-for-ipad/">lays out the case for such a feature nicely</a>, and has even mocked up the on-off switch. I must also acknowledge the twisted genius of the <a href="http://www.griffintechnology.com/products/woogie">Woogie</a>, an iPhone case that turns the phone into a giant stuffed animal. I know some adults who might want one of those, too.</p>
<p>Without further hesitation, the apps that worked well for me this year. These were road-tested on 5-year-old and 2-year-old boys in grocery store lines, during subway delays &quot;due to train traffic ahead of us,&quot; the exhausted hours after school, those 10 minutes of distraction needed to get out the door, and just for fun.</p>
<p><a></a></p>
<p> <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/angry-birds/id343200656?mt=8&amp;ign-mpt=uo%3D2"><strong>Angry Birds</strong></a>: An easy choice, but c'mon: <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2277919/">It's saved Finland</a>. This world-conquering app takes seconds to learn, and it's satisfying to destroy things. It gets bonus points for answering the question both boys asked immediately: &quot;Why are the birds angry?&quot;</p>
<p> <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/build-a-train/id398937831?mt=8"><strong>Build a Train</strong></a><strong>: </strong>Select your engine, select your coaches, and then run the train around a track. The game introduces simple tasks that are fun to complete. The 2-year-old nearly fell over when he got the train to go through the tunnel.</p>
<p> <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/cut-the-rope/id380293530?mt=8&amp;ign-mpt=uo%3D2"><strong>Cut the Rope</strong></a><strong>: </strong>A delightful game that could only exist on the iPhone. You slice a rope so that a piece of candy falls into the mouth of a cute green creature. The gameplay is tactile, very intuitive, and becomes more challenging at exactly the right pace.</p>
<p> <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/flight-control/id306220440?mt=8&amp;ign-mpt=uo%3D2"><strong>Flight Control</strong></a><strong>: </strong>Another oldie but goodie. You land planes by tracing paths with your finger. What keeps this game in heavy rotation (for me) is the pleasurable music, a feature that all kids apps should emulate.</p>
<p> <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/fruit-ninja/id362949845?mt=8&amp;ign-mpt=uo%3D2"><strong>Fruit Ninja</strong></a><strong>:</strong> The new star in town. Fruit gets launched in the air, fruit gets sliced in half. If I let him, the 2-year-old will play &quot;Zen&quot; mode until the battery runs out. I've learned a surprising amount about fruit from the &quot;Fruit Facts&quot; that the game displays. I've also had to concede that kiwis do resemble poop.</p>
<p> <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/geared/id325793558?mt=8&amp;ign-mpt=uo%3D2"><strong>Geared</strong></a>: This is the strategy game that the 5 year-old will play the most. There's something inherently satisfying to men of all ages about meshed gears.</p>
<p> <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/gravity-guy/id398348506?mt=8&amp;ign-mpt=uo%3D2"><strong>Gravity Guy</strong></a><strong>: </strong>Run away from bad dudes—on the ceiling or on the floor. </p>
<p> <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/homerun-battle-3d/id313833267?mt=8"><strong>Homerun Battle 3-D</strong></a><strong>: </strong>An addictive baseball simulation in which you try to smack it out of the park. The pitcher recently changed into Santa, provoking much delight. Dad has been known to play this one while the children are falling asleep.</p>
<p> <a href="http://montessorium.com/letters/"><strong>Intro to Letters</strong></a><strong>/</strong> <a href="http://montessorium.com/math/"><strong>Intro to Math</strong></a>: I just throw these in there hoping the kids will accidentally press on them. Kidding. These are beautiful apps based on Montessori materials. Very rarely will my sons work with these apps without prompting, but it's a joy when I help trace letters. Even better on the iPad that I borrowed from work.</p>
<p> <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/monkey-preschool-lunchbox/id328205875?mt=8"><strong>Monkey Preschool Lunchbox</strong></a>: This is on the list grudgingly. The eeh-eeh-eeh of this monkey has been known to send a parent into the kitchen to fill out applications for <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waldorf_education">Waldorf school</a>. The monkey has it all figured out though: You match fruit or solve puzzles and then you get stickers. Never underestimate the drawing power of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vSYadh2xmcI">a cute, overly expressive animal</a>.</p>
<p> <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/ragdoll-blaster-2/id353846826?mt=8"><strong>Ragdoll Blaster 2</strong></a>: A game for the kid who takes apart the vacuum cleaner. You shoot ragdolls at targets that are hiding behind all manner of contraptions and obstacles. Teaches physics!</p>
<p> <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/reckless-racing/id386234787?mt=8"><strong>Reckless Racing</strong></a><strong> and </strong> <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/slotz-racer/id302052502?mt=8"><strong>Slotz Racer</strong></a>: The requisite car-racing games. My personal pick would be <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/real-racing-hd/id363998989?mt=8">Real Racing</a>, but these are the ones that the boys like best. Slotz is easier to play, but Reckless Racing offers more crashing and mayhem potential.</p>
<p> <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/solipskier/id383281764?mt=8"><strong>Solipskier</strong></a>: Draw the slope with your finger and launch the skier into the air while a fabulous guitar solo blares. Another only-on-the-iPhone game that delights with its freedom to experiment.</p>
<p> <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/talking-carl/id342755454?mt=8"><strong>Talking Carl</strong></a><strong>: </strong>Your child shouts words, Talking Carl shouts those words louder, and with a higher-pitched voice. Minutes or hours of hilarity, depending upon your age.</p>
<p>My &quot;kid screen&quot; has become much more game-heavy since last year. That's due in part to the 5-year-old's ability to detect anything that's remotely educational and then promptly pronounce it &quot;boring.&quot; (Where does that heat-seeking ability come from?) I should also mention that his second-favorite iPhone activity is going into the app store to look for &quot;cooler&quot; games. He doesn't do the drawing apps, the photo apps, and the reading apps I've heard so many good things about. </p>
<p>Leave your best apps in the comments below or e-mail me at <a href="mailto:michaelagger1@gmail.com">michaelagger1@gmail.com</a>.</p>
<p><em></em></p>
<p>Like&nbsp; <a href="http://www.facebook.com/slate"><em><strong>Slate</strong>&nbsp;on Facebook</em></a><em>. Follow&nbsp;</em> <a href="http://www.twitter.com/slate"><em>us on Twitter</em></a><em>.</em></p>Thu, 16 Dec 2010 21:41:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2010/12/the_best_iphone_apps_for_kids_2010.htmlMichael Agger2010-12-16T21:41:00ZA year of reckless racing, angry birding, and pineapple slicing.TechnologyThe best iPhone apps for kids, 2010 edition.2278239Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2278239falsefalsefalseThe best iPhone apps for kids, 2010 edition.The best iPhone apps for kids, 2010 edition.Talking Carl.Life With iPadhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2010/04/life_with_ipad.html
<p> The <a href="http://gizmodo.com/5507037/ipad-mega-meta-review-works-great-no-surprises?skyline=true&amp;s=i">early reviews are in</a>, but do you have what it takes to own an iPad? The architect Frank Lloyd Wright would revisit the houses that he designed for his clients and rearrange the furniture to his liking. I feel a similar impulse behind the &quot;<a href="http://www.apple.com/ipad/guided-tours/">Guided Tour</a>&quot; videos that Apple has put together for their new screen. While the company's previous offerings in this genre have typically featured Apple Store employees in a neutral space, the iPad videos take us into a model home of an iPad user. It's a pristine environment, fit for an IKEA showroom, with lots of coffee around. This is how Steve Jobs wants us to use his revolutionary device. Let's take a tour through Apple's tour of how an enlightened iPad user lives.</p>
<p>There are 11 videos in all, ranging in length from two to four minutes. The <a href="http://www.apple.com/ipad/guided-tours/includes/safari.html#safari">first video</a> presents the Web browser Safari. It opens with an overhead shot of our iPad user putting his cup of black coffee down on a dark wood table next to his iPad. (Film buffs will note the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yut1hhhuz3M">similarities</a> to Jim Jarmusch's <em> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0002I83Z4?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=slatmaga-20&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=B0002I83Z4">Coffee and Cigarettes</a></em>.) And, lo, what site is loaded on the iPad? The<em> New York Times</em>, of course. It often seems as if all Apple products are designed merely to provide us with a more convenient way to read the <em>Times</em>.</p>
<p>Our iPad user, a man, is reclining on a chair, and he props the iPad on his knee with his legs crossed. This is the start of a theme. iPad users prefer the couch and the lounge chair. Should an iPadder have the unfortunate experience of sitting at a desk, he will immediately put his feet up on the desk and rest the iPad on his thighs to type. The iPad world is like an opium den, where one is always reclining, the better to enjoy its strange, new, vivid wonders.</p>
<p>Next, the voice-over begins. It promises us that, with a &quot;multi-touch display this large … you feel like you're actually holding the Web right in the palm of your hand.&quot; When I hear that, my first reaction is to drop whatever I'm holding. Our iPad man is reading the following article from the <em>Times</em>: &quot;<a href="http://travel.nytimes.com/2010/01/03/travel/03headsup.html">Happy 1,300<sup>th</sup> to Nara, Japan</a>.&quot; Naturally, he would love to go visit a meticulously restored palace in an ancient city that helped the spread of Buddhism. As an iPad owner, his soul exists on a higher plane.</p>
<p>The voice-over introduces another theme: that of touching. Throughout these guided-tour videos, we are constantly being urged to touch, flick, and pinch our music, photos, and Web pages. I get that the iPad makes the experience of using a computer more tactile, but the videos make using the new device sound a lot like picking out a good piece of meat.</p>
<p>In <a href="http://www.apple.com/ipad/guided-tours/#mail">the &quot;Mail&quot; video</a>, you're greeted with the promise that you can &quot;see and touch your e-mail like never before.&quot; Kinky! Our iPad user here is invited to a &quot;Day at the Beach!&quot; and is also informed of a meeting delay. He looks at a &quot;Final Sales Report.&quot; Then he learns that salary increases for &quot;his team&quot; were approved today. After that, he decides to join a friend on a trip to Joshua Tree National Park. Then he checks the location for a surprise birthday dinner at <a href="http://www.slanteddoor.com/">the Slanted Door</a> in San Francisco. The message here is that in iPad-land your e-mail inbox is not a torture chamber of obligation, undone tasks, and spam. It's full of bright, crisp photos and groovy reports!</p>
<p>The &quot;Mail&quot; video also offers the only down note in the guided tour, when the voice-over admits that the iPad's on-screen keyboard is &quot;nearly the same size as a notebook keyboard.&quot; That &quot;nearly&quot; must have been painful for the Apple team to say.</p>
<p>On to &quot;<a href="http://www.apple.com/ipad/guided-tours/includes/photos.html#photos">Photos</a>,&quot; where our iPad user is a woman. She, of course, immediately sits down on the couch and puts her feet up. The photos show good-looking friends, adorable children holding umbrellas in Paris, and the like. Thanks to the iPad, we can have the novel experience of holding our pictures &quot;right in our hands.&quot; Uh, thanks. Haven't done that before. </p>
<p>The &quot;<a href="http://www.apple.com/ipad/guided-tours/includes/videos.html#videos">Videos</a>&quot; video opens with a shot of a popcorn bowl and our iPad woman watching Pixar's <em> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B001KVZ6G6?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=slatmaga-20&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=B001KVZ6G6">Up</a></em>with the iPad on her tented legs. The video immediately touts the iPad's 10 hours of battery life. Have you ever tried to hold your hand still for 10 hours? I can't imagine our iPad woman watching <em>Up</em> comfortably<em></em>for 15 minutes without looking for a book to prop up her device. In this video, we hear again how &quot;immersive&quot; the iPad is. The simple, glowing screen sucks us in and drowns out all noncrisp, nonbright, non-Apple-designed distractions.</p>
<p>Next up is &quot;<a href="http://www.apple.com/ipad/guided-tours/includes/youtube.html#youtube">YouTube</a>.&quot; Why are they even showing us this app? Some lawyer at Apple must have negotiated a very bad contract. His punishment is to use Vista. The video has iPad owners watching some guy skateboarding around through balloons. Yep, that's exactly the kind of original, noncopyrighted stuff we watch on YouTube.</p>
<p>In the &quot;<a href="http://www.apple.com/ipad/guided-tours/includes/ipod.html#ipod">iPod</a>&quot; video, our iPad man is back in his lounge chair. He's listening to the indie pop of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B001TW2S6M?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=slatmaga-20&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=B001TW2S6M">the Boy Least Likely To</a> near a window with a view of a city street. Why so melancholy? Isn't your iPad enough? Things perk up in the &quot;iTunes&quot; video with Lady Gaga's &quot;<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B001IXSU8W?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=slatmaga-20&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=B001IXSU8W">Just Dance</a>.&quot; A woman is sitting at her kitchen table with a French press coffeemaker. We pinch and poke our way through the iTunes store where the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00192IV0O?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=slatmaga-20&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=B00192IV0O">Black Eyed Peas</a>, <em> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B002VECM4A?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=slatmaga-20&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=B002VECM4A">Precious</a></em>, <em> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00275EGWY?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=slatmaga-20&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=B00275EGWY">The Hurt Locker</a></em>, and <em> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0030Y11UG?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=slatmaga-20&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=B0030Y11UG">South Park</a></em>all make cameos. We watch a sensitive HD clip from the Keats biopic <em> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B002WY65VA?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=slatmaga-20&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=B002WY65VA">Bright Star</a>. </em>The most head-spinning moment: when the iTunes university is shown and the featured course is Stanford's &quot;iPhone Application Development.&quot;</p>
<p>The &quot;<a href="http://www.apple.com/ipad/guided-tours/includes/ibooks.html#ibooks">iBooks</a>&quot; segment contains the guided tour's most shameless attempt to gull us. A mother is reading <em>Winnie-the-Pooh</em> to her Vans-wearing son. On the table is a recently abandoned crayon drawing and a reference book showing illustrations of elephants. The boy points to something on the screen. They are &quot;discovering the joy of reading all over again.&quot; Don't worry, the iPad won't replace books in your house, but will live peacefully among them. Your son won't use the device to play Shrek Kart; he'll nest beside you on the couch and then go outside for a game of Pooh sticks. And, if he gets bored, just change the font size! The &quot;iBooks&quot; app also animates the pages being turned, a cute idea that creates a delay that will quickly become intolerable. </p>
<p>The final three videos—&quot;<a href="http://www.apple.com/ipad/guided-tours/includes/keynote.html#keynote">Keynote</a>,&quot; &quot;<a href="http://www.apple.com/ipad/guided-tours/includes/pages.html#pages">Pages</a>,&quot; and &quot;<a href="http://www.apple.com/ipad/guided-tours/includes/numbers.html#numbers">Numbers</a>&quot;—can be lumped together. These apps are Apple's versions of PowerPoint, Word, and Excel. The &quot;Keynote&quot; one was so complicated that I could barely follow the action. &quot;Pages&quot; shows that the iPad will be excellent if you're writing an Earth science textbook for fourth graders filled with photos of giraffes that need to be moved around a lot. In &quot;Numbers,&quot; the iPad man seems to be using a spreadsheet to cruelly rank the various players on a girls' youth soccer team. The not-so-subtle message in these productivity-app videos is that you can use your iPad like a laptop. Just make sure that you don't need to do anything silly, like print something out.</p>
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<p> Born in the early 1970s, I've experienced only a few world-changing events along the lines of the automobile, the telephone, and the television. Sure, I was around the campus computer cluster when NCSA Mosaic was installed in 1994, but the Internet didn't make a grand entrance. (The <a href="http://web.archive.org/web/19970606010526/http:/www.ucmp.berkeley.edu/">UC Museum of Paleontology</a>, a prominent early Web site, was only so interesting.) The World Wide Web doesn't compare with 1981, when my brother and I got an Atari 2600 for Christmas. Before Atari, no video games at home. After Atari, video games all the time. Males of a certain age will regale you with tales of long mornings roping cattle in <a href="http://www.atariage.com/software_page.html?SoftwareID=1336">Stampede</a> and the distinctive thumb cramp that the joystick delivered. But enough nostalgia for now. Nick Montfort and Ian Bogost, two professors of media studies, have written a book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/026201257X?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=slatmaga-20&amp;link_code=as3&amp;camp=211189&amp;creative=373489&amp;creativeASIN=026201257X"><em>Racing the Beam</em></a>, that approaches the beloved machine from a new angle: What was it like to program for the Atari 2600?</p>
<p>Examining the Atari 2600 as a device built of microprocessors, ROM, and I/O ports lets us glean a new lesson from its rise and fall: Simple, flexible machines make great gaming platforms because they inspire unexpected uses of the hardware. The potential downside of flexibility is the loss of quality control. The &quot;<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Video_game_crash_of_1983">North American video game crash of 1983</a>&quot; is partly attributed to the glut of cartridges for the 2600—consumers at the mall couldn't tell what was good or bad. Yet, as Montfort and Bogost write, the quirks and rudimentary nature of the 2600's hardware offered unanticipated ways to innovate on the platform and allowed for games as enjoyable as River Raid, as mockable as E.T., and as execrable as the &quot;adult&quot; <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Custer's_Revenge">Custer's Revenge</a>.</p>
<p>Atari founder Nolan Bushnell had an ideal background to start a video game company. He was an electrical engineer who had worked as a barker for carnival games like the one in which you throw the ball in the basket to win an enormous stuffed animal, except you never do, unless you are a little girl whom the operator lets win in order to attract new marks. In the early '70s, Bushnell struggled to make a &quot;tavern-grade&quot; adaptation of Spacewar!, a game that ran on a minicomputer at his university and displayed graphics on an oscilloscope. In the early '70s, the tavern (otherwise known as the bar) was the place for video games, which were seen as offshoots of darts and pool and served the same purpose of keeping people around to eat and drink. Bushnell's game, named Computer Space, never took off, but it did have a brush with history: When the first Pong<em></em>unit was installed in a Sunnyvale, Calif., tavern, Computer Space<em></em>was in the place already.</p>
<p>Pong<em></em>went on to worldwide fame and success, and Bushnell saw an opening by targeting kids and families. Atari developed a device called Home Pong that was sold exclusively through Sears. It did well, but how many Home Pongs<em></em>did a home need? The next idea was to develop a machine that could play many games. Atari could sell the device almost at cost and make money on the cartridges. With these goals, Atari began work on the Atari Video Computer System. (The VCS would be renamed the <em>2600</em> when the Atari 5200 debuted in 1982.) The machine had a cheap processor and a shockingly small amount of RAM—128 bytes—even for the time. But the result was low price. In 1977, an Apple II cost $1,298, while Atari sold the VCS for $199.</p>
<p>Bushnell left Atari in 1978 and went on to realize his vision of combining the carnival and the arcade by founding Chuck E. Cheese's Pizza Time Theatres. (A must-read for the curious: Anna Prior's <em>Wall Street Journal </em>article on <a href="http://online.wsj.com/article/SB122878081364889613.html?mod=special_page_campaign2008_mostpop">what might account for the weird amount of violence at the chain</a>.) Meanwhile, Atari changed living-room history. The VCS hardware was tailored to bring two popular coin-op games into the home: Tank<em></em>and Pong. On the Atari, Tank<em></em>was rejiggered as Combat, the cartridge that came with Atari units. Even back in the day, Combat<em></em>was a letdown, only slightly less boring than <a href="http://www.atariage.com/software_page.html?SoftwareID=850">Basic Math</a>.</p>
<p>Montfort and Bogost, though, explain why Combat doesn't deserve my scorn. It was the testing ground for many fundamental Atari programming techniques, and the VCS's hardware led to the peculiarities of the game. The horizontal symmetry of the mazes or &quot;playfields&quot; were encouraged by the processor, for example, and once you had programmed the basic &quot;tank vs. tank&quot; scenario, the Atari's configuration made it easy to add variations such as &quot;tank Pong,&quot; in which you could bounce shots off the walls, and the surreal &quot;invisible tank,&quot; in which the tanks appeared only when firing or when hit. It's these kinds of insights that form the basis of what the authors call platform studies, analyzing how a computing platforms &quot;constrain, shape, and support the creative work that is done on them.&quot;</p>
<p>The bigger, more headache-inducing Atari programming challenge was dealing with the TV. The cathode ray tube screens of the late '70s and early '80s used an electron gun that drew individual scan lines on the screen. To create something as simple as a tank or a pong paddle, Atari programmers had to choreograph an intricate timing dance between their code and the electron beam. The most basic accomplishments on the 2600 could take months of solo work. The famous programmer of Adventure, Warren Robinett, describes the process of developing a cartridge as essentially a form of folk art:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>In those old far-off days, each game for the 2600 was done entirely by one person, the programmer, who conceived the game concept, wrote the program, did the graphics—drawn first on graph paper and converted by hand to hexadecimal—and did the sounds.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Robinett was inspired to create Adventure by an earlier text adventure game also called Adventure, which was in turn inspired by a love of cave exploring. Robinett's Adventure<em></em>popularized the now-common convention of screen-to-screen movement through a virtual space. It also made early strides in avatars and collision-detection (determining when one object hits another), basic aspects of video gaming. Most famously, Robinett programmed one of the first <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Easter_egg_(media)">Easter eggs</a>—a hidden dot gave access to a secret room which displayed the words &quot;Created by Warren Robinett.&quot; </p>
<p>The Easter egg, says Robinett, &quot;was a signature, like at the bottom of a painting.&quot; Atari discovered his handiwork after a 15-year-old player wrote the company a letter, but the egg remained because it was too expensive for Atari to make a new ROM mask. (Will that then-15-year-old player please identify him or herself and take a bow? Various sources suggest &quot;a gamer in Utah.&quot;)</p>
<p>Montfort and Bogost go on to devote chapters to four other key titles in Atari history: Pac-Man, Yars' Revenge<em>, </em>Pitfall!, and Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back. The most significant of these is Pitfall!, produced by Activision in 1982. That company was started by a group of star Atari programmers who realized that the games they had anonymously programmed on their $20K salaries were responsible for 60 percent of the company's $100 million in cartridge sales for one year. Activision prided itself on decent-sounding sounds and aesthetic detail, such as the tree limbs in the Pitfall!<em></em>jungle canopy—a pride that strained the limits of the Atari's native capabilities. They also started to work in teams, while giving the lead programmer prominent credit. That explains the tag line of this <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wcNq-IS3mc8">vintage TV ad for Pitfall!</a>, which informs us that the game was &quot;designed by David Crane.&quot;</p>
<p>The end came in 1983. A lot of us started playing games on home computers. A bunch of big-time cartridges, like the infamous E.T., were huge busts, and retailers became gun-shy about ordering more titles and sent the ones they had on the shelves back. The returns bankrupted third-party game developers and fueled an industry consensus that video games were a fad—a toy whose time had passed. In two years, Nintendo would prove everyone very wrong. The arrival of the Nintendo Entertainment System would embed Nintendo games in the memories of a new generation, just as Atari's had already done. Using Montfort and Bogost's intellectual model, an enlightening book could be written about how the design of the NES hardware affected game development on that machine.</p>
<p>What still amazes me, in spite of my scholarly concerns here, is the nostalgic punch of early video games—how transporting the blocky sounds and sights can be. Thanks to the hard work of my fellow travelers, <a href="http://www.2600online.com/">all of these memories are a click away</a>. Firing up a game of Frogger, I can almost smell the mildew on my basement floor. A game like Raiders of the Lost Ark really did immerse you in the manner of a good Encyclopedia Brown story. Getting caught in the balloons of Circus Atari was like a nitrous hit. And I defy you to find a more haunting sound than the collapse of a doomed city in Missile Command<em>.</em></p>
<p><em>*********</em></p>
<p>If you discovered the secret room in Adventure by yourself, not when it was published in a gaming magazine, <a href="mailto:michaelagger1@gmail.com">send me an e-mail</a> &nbsp;and stake your claim to a place in history. (<strong>Update, March 11, 2008:</strong> Although I haven't heard from the &quot;gamer in Utah,&quot; who first wrote a letter to Atari about the Easter egg in Adventure, I've heard from several people who found the dot and the secret room on their own. There were rumors of a &quot;bonus&quot; or &quot;endgame&quot; for Adventure, and the dot was discoverable because of a quirk in the game that caused a room to flash when there were more than&nbsp;two objects in it. For the complete scenario, watch the unveiling of the Easter egg <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gVbu2BssrzE">here</a>. Thanks to all to who pointed this out.) If you have questions about what it was like to work at Atari as a kid, <a href="mailto:slatepolitics@gmail.com">e-mail <strong><em>Slate</em></strong>'s John Dickerson</a>.</p>Mon, 09 Mar 2009 21:54:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2009/03/speak_atari.htmlMichael Agger2009-03-09T21:54:00ZHow the 2600 forged the home video game future.TechnologyHow the 2600 forged the home video game future.2213124Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2213124falsefalsefalseHow the 2600 forged the home video game future.How the 2600 forged the home video game future.The Atari 2600Social Warfarehttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2009/01/social_warfare.html
<p> Every so often I am reminded how primitive the Web really is. This usually happens after chatting with someone who works for Google. Recently, I interviewed <a href="http://www.google.com/s2/profiles/110563351377427897709">David Glazer</a>, who thinks about &quot;being social&quot; for the big G. He pointed out the caveman quality of socializing online in 2009. We have friends on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/">Facebook</a>, shared items on <a href="http://www.google.com/reader">Google Reader</a>, blogs on <a href="http://www.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>, bookmarks on <a href="http://delicious.com/">Delicious</a>, and a login at the <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/"><em>New York Times</em></a>, with each of these sites requiring different passwords and user names. Barbaric. And while there are smart companies such as <a href="http://friendfeed.com/">FriendFeed</a> and <a href="http://www.plaxo.com/">Plaxo</a> that unite these activities in one place, we are far from what Google describes as the Holy Grail: &quot;Any app, any site, any friend.&quot;</p>
<p>Glazer offers this mental exercise to understand how an online social nirvana might benefit you: Think of an activity you do on the Web in a solitary way, and then imagine how that activity would be better if the site knew about the other people that you care about. I read the<em> New York Times</em> every day. In Glazer's model, the <em>Times </em>would show me what articles my friends have read or give me a list of articles where they've left comments. That's kind of a cool idea, and one that the <em>Times </em>is trying to pull off with its <a href="http://timespeople.nytimes.com/home">Times People</a> feature. Glazer believes that everything on the Web is better if it's social. Checking out a stock? It would be nice to read chatter from other potential investors. Baking a cake? Look at advice from those who have already tried the recipe. Tempted by a new restaurant? See if your foodie friends have eaten there already. The reason we don't do these things now is that the &quot;barriers to social are too high.&quot; It's still too annoying to fill out all of those registration forms, and there's no universal way to manage your online identity and networks of friends. Google and its partners want to collapse the barriers to social and give each and every one of us an entourage.</p>
<p>There's just one hiccup in this plan: Facebook, the place where many of us already have our entourage. The pre-eminent social network announced that it has <a href="http://blog.facebook.com/blog.php?post=46881667130">150 million active users</a> worldwide. My Facebook story may be like yours: I joined on a whim, filling out a rudimentary profile on a lazy afternoon. Facebook took that information and, like a hostess powered by four vodka tonics, kept sending friends my way. (The site is a relentless shoulder-tapper.) Without trying too hard, I had 50 friends, and I soon got interested in managing that network, tagging people by school, workplace, hometown, and family. Facebook was nudging me to do something I would never normally do: map out the networks that link my world together.</p>
<p>In an almost sneaky way, Facebook had become very valuable to me. It's my address book, only supercharged and more nuanced. Yet, as many Web commenters have pointed out, all of the work I've done on my &quot;social graph&quot; is held hostage on Facebook. I can't download it to my computer and take it with me. To offer one prominent example: When blogger <a href="http://www.downloadsquad.com/2008/01/03/scobleized-why-facebook-will-never-give-your-data-back/">Robert Scoble tried to scrape his Facebook data</a>, Facebook closed his account. Mark Zuckerberg and the people who run Facebook, no dummies, fiercely protect the social graph that they have created with our help. They do this for the admirable reason of safeguarding our privacy and the practical reason that the network has enormous potential value. The entire business story of Facebook can be seen as an attempt to leverage this information in a way that doesn't feel like a home invasion.</p>
<p>This is where Google and David Glazer come back in, and why 2009 might see some serious social warfare between Google and Facebook. Last May, the latter announced a service called <a href="http://developers.facebook.com/connect.php">Facebook Connect</a>, a set of tools that made it easier for Web developers to let people log in to sites with their Facebook ID and share things on their Facebook news feed. (A good place to <a href="http://www.vimeo.com/log_in">try this out</a> is the video site Vimeo.) Three days later, Google announced <a href="http://www.google.com/friendconnect/">Friend Connect</a>, a set of tools that made it easier for Web developers to do the same sorts of things, except outside the realm of Facebook. A site such as <a href="http://www.qloud.com/">Qloud</a> lets you join and comment with a Gmail or Yahoo account. So far, so good. But <a href="http://mashable.com/2008/05/15/facebook-blocks-friend-connec/">Facebook blocked Friend Connect</a> from accessing its data, and now we have two rival social networks.</p>
<p>This may seem like an arcane, technical struggle, but I believe that a year from now, you are actually going to care who owns your social network. A lot of Facebook is flirting, photo sharing, and inane status lines, but we are also telling it how much we value certain people. I want to hear less about this person. I'm married to this person. Please block this person from ever contacting me in any way ever again. We are sorting out the entourage, or, to put it in a more utilitarian way, we are deciding which people are worthy sources of information. </p>
<p>One of the stresses of being on the Web is the vast amount of available information. It's a condition that Clay Shirky has described as &quot;<a href="http://lifehacker.com/5052851/information-overload-is-filter-failure-says-shirky">filter failure</a>&quot;—we don't know what sources to let in or what new sources have potential value. (Read this <a href="http://www.cjr.org/overload/interview_with_clay_shirky_par.php">great interview</a> for more Shirky insights.) One obviously great filter is our friends. And one of my favorite places for the random videos and fun links without which the modern workday could not be endured is my Facebook news feed. But my little salon of procrastination is under enormous pressure, as Facebook has yet to figure out <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2203436/">the whole making-money thing</a>. I would be bummed if the site had to spam me with ads in order to survive, yet I was forced to stay on Facebook because I wasn't able to take my friend list to new pastures.</p>
<p>Facebook also knows this and is trying to figure out how open to be. It has the advantage of a huge lead in the size of its network. (More people means more opportunities to find new friends for you.) Meanwhile, Google and its partners are gesturing: Come be free and frolic on our <a href="http://code.google.com/apis/opensocial/">open platform</a>. Google and Facebook have said that they will one day play nicely with each other, but a lot is at stake on the social frontier. Glazer put it best: &quot;People are inherently social—killer user habits are built around connecting to other people.&quot; Killer user habits also make great marketing and advertising platforms.</p>
<p>The hope is that as Google and Facebook compete, we are fitfully making our way toward the benefits of <a href="http://www.dataportability.org/">portable social data</a>, a sort of command center for our online self. The <a href="http://www.brianoberkirch.com/2007/08/03/deeelightful-insanely-great-services-enabled-by-portable-social-networks/">advocates</a> of this openness discuss such sci-fi goodies as geolocation and &quot;ambient controls&quot; that would let us decide, like a dimmer switch, how much social information we want to receive. (If you need to get something done, change the setting to &quot;Hermit.&quot;) Keeping a close eye on your online identity might feel burdensome, like putting on a second set of clothes, but consider how much nicer it will be to manage how you look, rather than <a href="http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&amp;fkt=1796&amp;fsdt=4828&amp;q=%27michael+agger%27&amp;aq=f&amp;oq=">letting some algorithm do it for you</a>.</p>Wed, 14 Jan 2009 22:08:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2009/01/social_warfare.htmlMichael Agger2009-01-14T22:08:00ZGoogle and Facebook battle for your friends.TechnologyGoogle and Facebook battle for your friends.2208676Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2208676falsefalsefalseGoogle and Facebook battle for your friends.Google and Facebook battle for your friends.Fresh Moosehttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2008/10/fresh_moose.html
<p> When John McCain chose Sarah Palin as his running mate, hunting entered the national conversation in a way it hasn't since 2006, when Dick Cheney <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2136065/">shot a donor</a> instead of a quail. Palin, in fashioning herself as a leader for Joe Six-Pack America, has emphasized her prowess as a sportswoman. Her office has released photos of her with a <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/17/dining/17moose.html?scp=4&amp;sq=sarah%20palin%20moose&amp;st=cse">dead moose</a>, a <a href="http://www.fieldandstream.com/article_gallery/Sarah-Palin-Hunting-and-Fishing-Pics/2">dead caribou</a>, and several <a href="http://www.fieldandstream.com/article_gallery/Sarah-Palin-Hunting-and-Fishing-Pics/3">dead salmon</a>. She was <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/10/09/sarah-palins-purse-real-w_n_133223.html">recently spotted</a> in Pennsylvania carrying a tote bag with the logo &quot;Real Women Hunt Moose.&quot; One bowhunting company was so excited (or shameless) that it introduced a new model called the <a href="http://www.lakotacorp.com/Sarahcuda.aspx">Sarah-Cuda</a> in honor of the governor. Love the pink camo.</p>
<p>While Palin and Cheney are both hard-nosed Republicans, they represent different aspects of the hunting tradition. Cheney, <a href="http://articles.latimes.com/2006/feb/19/nation/na-hunt19">who favors canned hunts on private game reserves</a>, shoots his beasts in the manner of aristocrats. Palin, gutting moose in her neighbor's basement, is an heir to the &quot;potlatch&quot; hunters of the Colonial era, who wanted meat for the cabin table. When Palin was running for governor in 2006, she told <em>USA Today</em>, &quot;We hunt as much as we can, and I'm proud to say our freezer is full of wild game we harvested here in Alaska.&quot; And if you look twice at the reasons why Palin hunts, they resemble an ideal cherished by city-dwelling, <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/06/nyregion/06bigcity.html?_r=1&amp;scp=1&amp;sq=chicken%20killed%20blue%20hill&amp;st=cse&amp;oref=slogin"><em>New York Times-</em>reading</a> folks. Sarah Palin is a locavore, harvesting meat from her local &quot;foodshed.&quot;</p>
<p>She's also, of course, trying to harvest votes. Hunting has been a useful political symbol since Teddy Roosevelt. When <em>Field &amp; Stream </em> <a href="http://www.fieldandstream.com/article_gallery/Sarah-Palin-Hunting-and-Fishing-Pics/">posted</a> Palin's hunting and fishing photos on its Web site, high-fives broke out among the assembled commenters. &quot;You don't find people in Washington who would be seen with their hands on a bloody caribou,&quot; one wrote, while another dreamed, &quot;Maybe if elected there's hope she will convert the White House pool into a trout pond?&quot; Naturally, there were a few malcontents in the mix, suggesting that the photographed caribou had in fact been &quot;gut shot&quot; in ignominious style (i.e., the animal wasn't killed cleanly with a precision shot to the heart, lungs, or head). An anonymous commenter came to her defense: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>For all you lefty city-slickers out there who are fixating on the blood back in the animals abdomen, that wound was from field dressing the caribou, the process whereby one incises the abdomen to remove the entrails and cool off the carcass quickly. Animals that are gut shot rarely leave a visible blood trail, as major blood vessels are not common in the entrails. So go back to sipping your lattes and gazing at pictures of your Ivy-league messiah. For you, meat comes from a grocery store. Please keep it that way, as we don't want you to handle firearms.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Time to add &quot;buying meat from a grocery store&quot; to the list of liberal sins. Yet we can thank this commenter for capturing one aspect of the cultural politics of hunting in 2008. Hunters hunt for many reasons—family tradition, love of the outdoors, friendship, the challenge of stalking big game—but the sport has always had a &quot;frontier&quot; appeal. I'm a hunter, a self-reliant individual living off the land; here, have some of my venison jerky. </p>
<p>Invoking the frontier theme, the major hunting organizations, such as the <a href="http://www.boone-crockett.org/">Boone and Crockett Club</a> and the <a href="http://www.nssf.org/">National Shooting Sports Foundation</a>, all pay tribute to the spirit of Teddy Roosevelt. Roosevelt championed hunting as a way to reinforce America's pioneer values, at a time (the 1890s) when the real frontier was closing. &quot;The virility, clear-sighted common sense and resourcefulness of the American people is due to the fact that we have been a nation of hunters and frequenters of the forest, plains, and waters&quot; is a typical T.R. exhortation. Roosevelt established the still-flickering idea that hunting teaches self-reliance and love of country.</p>
<p>Perhaps it's this patriotic element of hunting that makes hunting advocates fear for the country when they see their sport in decline. In surveys done by the U.S. Fish &amp; Wildlife service, the overall number of hunters has fallen from a peak of 19.1 million in 1975 to 12.5 million in 2006. Why? Historian Daniel Justin Herman, in his essay &quot;The Hunter's Aim,&quot; floats the theory that the middle-class businessmen who went duck and deer hunting in great numbers in the 1950s found a new natural arena to display their manliness, courtesy, and deadly aim: the golf course. If you read around on hunting sites, the anecdotal blame falls on suburbanization, single-parent households, and restrictive gun laws—but the real bile is saved for video games. Chad Love, of <em>Field &amp; Stream</em>, echoed the sentiments of his fellow hunters in a recent <a href="http://fieldandstream.blogs.com/news/2008/10/chad-love-on-ki.html">blog post</a>, when he recalled his boyhood &quot;back before the dawning of the 'Stoned on Electronic Entertainment Age.' &quot; His remark was greeted with this typical Amen: &quot;We don't let our kids play outside, yet wonder why they are fat, full of allergies and lazy.&quot; </p>
<p>The decreasing number of hunters has only intensified the sport's hold on those who still do hunt. As Herman explained: &quot;Hunting has become a counterculture among rural, blue-collar people. It's something that offends the snobs, the white-collar middle-class that has become so soft and opposed to the cruelty of animals.&quot; (For a glimpse of the extreme edge of this counterculture, watch an <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ppx-kDb1xi4">Exploding Varmints</a> video on YouTube.) Herman also notes that the patriotic strain of hunting persists in the contemporary vogue for all-things camouflage. &quot;Camo does double duty,&quot; he says, &quot;I'm a hunter, and I'm ready to be a soldier when the call demands.&quot;</p>
<p>The outsider status of Sarah Palin-style meat hunting (as opposed to the insider status of Cheney-style hunting) harkens back to the olde days. Herman describes how the Founding Fathers were mostly not hunters, as hunting at the time was deemed &quot;too Indian.&quot; It was an insult to call someone a &quot;buckskinner.&quot; In addition, early Americans justified the taking of land from Native Americans on the premise that the Indians were hunters who were just passing through—not farmers like the white settlers. It was after the Civil War, as America began to industrialize, that hunting became popular as an aristocratic sport pursued by gentlemen, i.e., &quot;sportsmen,&quot;&nbsp;while subsistence hunters found game where they could.&nbsp;Roosevelt built his political career around the gun but also started the conservation movement that set aside land on which average Americans&nbsp;could practice the invigorating, country-affirming act of hunting. Gilded Age women followed their manly&nbsp;men into the forests, as hunting was one way for the &quot;new woman&quot; to exhibit her burgeoning sense of independence.</p>
<p>Like most kids who grow up to be hunters, Sarah Palin was taught by her father—a hunting parent is the key factor in whether a child takes up the sport. Palin's dad, Chuck Heath, is a frontier-style, self-reliant&nbsp;pothunter. He <a href="http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/news/the_real_american_idol/article1687959.ece">recently bragged to the British <em>Sun</em></a>, &quot;We raised our family to be able to support ourselves—90 per cent of our meat and fish we get ourselves.&quot; His comments are also in tune with our disastrous financial moment. Gun sales have been up this fall, and Tony Aeschliman of the Shooting Sports Association speculated that lack of work gives rural people more time to hunt and more incentive to &quot;<a href="http://www.marketwatch.com/news/story/outdoor-sports-industries-stay-hopeful/story.aspx?guid=%7BE0AFC528-FD31-46B2-88BF-5ABBB811B940%7D&amp;dist=msr_1">put a deer in the freezer</a>.&quot; And by the deer carcass is where the shooters and the foodies meet. This week, the leading locavore, Michael Pollan, in an essay titled &quot;<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/12/magazine/12policy-t.html?em=&amp;pagewanted=all">Farmer in Chief</a>,&quot; advised the next president, &quot;You should support hunting as a particularly sustainable way to eat meat—meat grown without any fossil fuels whatsoever.&quot; </p>
<p>In these divided times, I would love to propose a red state/blue state d&eacute;tente—you guys shoot the deer; we'll cook the venison in a lovely reduction sauce—but game markets didn't work so well in the past. A central tenet of preserving wildlife is that we must remove the economic value from an animal. Otherwise, extensive poaching and habitat destruction follow. So bringing back game markets on a massive scale wouldn't quite work, although <a href="http://www.nrahq.org/hunting/hunterhungry.asp">Hunters for the Hungry</a> is a worthy idea, and it's only slightly crazy to imagine city dwellers having &quot;community supported hunters&quot; in the manner of &quot;community supported agriculture.&quot; There's also the whole moral question of whether hunting is a humane way to treat animals that I will gladly sidestep. Still, animal lovers, latte sippers, and muzzleloaders, please hold your fire for a moment and consider what we have in common: We may disagree about big, federal government, but we're starting to share an idea about small, local food.</p>Fri, 17 Oct 2008 21:47:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2008/10/fresh_moose.htmlMichael Agger2008-10-17T21:47:00ZWhy Sarah Palin is a locavore.TechnologyWhy Sarah Palin is a locavore.2201955Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2201955falsefalsefalseWhy Sarah Palin is a locavore.Why Sarah Palin is a locavore.Blogging for Dollarshttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2008/10/blogging_for_dollars.html
<p> Last week, the blog search engine <a href="http://www.technorati.com/">Technorati</a> released its 2008 <a href="http://www.technorati.com/blogging/state-of-the-blogosphere/">State of the Blogosphere</a> report with the slightly menacing promise to &quot;deliver even deeper insights into the blogging mind.&quot; Bloggers create 900,000 blog posts a day worldwide, and some of them are actually making money. Blogs with 100,000 or more unique visitors a month earn an average of $75,000 annually—though that figure is skewed by the small percentage of blogs that make more than $200,000 a year. The estimates from a 2007 <a href="http://www.businessweek.com/smallbiz/content/jul2007/sb20070713_202390.htm"><em>Business Week </em>article</a> are older but juicier: The <a href="http://icanhascheezburger.com/">LOLcat empire</a> rakes in $5,600 per month; <a href="http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/">Overheard in New York</a> gets $8,100 per month; and <a href="http://www.perezhilton.com/">Perez Hilton</a>, gossip king, scoops up $111,000 per month.</p>
<p>With this kind of cash sloshing around, one wonders: What does it take to live the dream—to write what I know, and then watch the money flow?</p>
<p>From the perspective of someone who doesn't blog, blogging seems attractive. Bloggers such as <a href="http://www.kottke.org/">Jason Kottke</a> (<a href="http://images.businessweek.com/ss/07/07/0714_bloggers/index.htm">$5,300/month</a>) and the <a href="http://gofugyourself.celebuzz.com/">Fug girls</a> (<a href="http://images.businessweek.com/ss/07/07/0714_bloggers/index.htm">$6,240/month</a>) pursue what naturally interests them without many constraints on length or style. While those two are genuine stars of the blogging world, there are plenty of smaller, personal blogs that bring in decent change with the <a href="https://affiliate-program.amazon.com/gp/associates/join?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=affiliate98-20">Amazon Associates</a> program (you receive a referral fee if someone buys a book, CD, etc. via a link from your blog) and <a href="https://www.google.com/adsense/login/en_US/?gsessionid=-X-uozVThjc">search ads from Google</a>. (The big G analyzes your site and places relevant ads; you get paid if people click on them.) Google-ad profiteering is an <a href="http://www.problogger.net/archives/2008/08/16/split-testing-how-to-increase-your-adsense-earnings-94-overnight/">entire universe in and of itself</a>—one blogger by the name of Shoemoney became famous (well, Digg-famous) when <a href="http://www.shoemoney.com/gallery/v/misc/adsensecheck.jpg.html">he posted a picture of himself with a check from Google for $132,994.97</a> for one month of clicks.</p>
<p>Blogs with decent traffic and a voice are also getting snapped up by blog-ad networks, which in turn package them as niche audiences to advertisers. On <a href="http://www.blogads.com/">Blogads</a>, advertisers can choose the &quot;<a href="http://web.blogads.com/adspotgroups/mininetwork.2007-04-02.5003275868/ba_mininetwork_view">Blogs for Dudes!</a>&quot; hive or the &quot;<a href="http://web.blogads.com/adspotgroups/mininetwork.2006-11-03.9791987347/ba_mininetwork_view">Jewish Republican Channel</a>.&quot; <a href="http://www.federatedmedia.net/">Federated Media</a> groups blogs into subjects such as &quot;<a href="http://www.federatedmedia.net/federations/parenting">Parenting</a>&quot; and &quot;<a href="http://www.federatedmedia.net/federations/news2&amp;sort=traffic">News 2.0</a>&quot;; there is also a boutique network for blogs that don't want to cover themselves with ads called <a href="http://decknetwork.net/">The Deck</a>. These networks present blogs as &quot;<a href="http://web.blogads.com/FAQ/viewers">grassroots intellectual economy</a>&quot; and describe their audiences as loyal, engaged, and likely to see ads as not just ads, but useful bits of information. This may be a comfort to squeamish indie bloggers since it hints that putting ads on your site is not selling out but helping out.</p>
<p>While monetizing your blog may be easier than ever, all of this comes with an ever-present hammer: the need to drive traffic. This month, the writer/blogger/productivity thinker Merlin Mann opened a window onto his angst with an <a href="http://www.43folders.com/2008/09/08/four-years">anniversary post</a>.&nbsp; <a>Mann</a> is best-known as the creator of the <a href="http://www.43folders.com/2004/09/03/introducing-the-hipster-pda">Hipster PDA</a> (index cards clipped together by a binder clip) <a href="http://www.slate.com#A">*</a> and his <a href="http://www.43folders.com/2007/07/25/merlins-inbox-zero-talk">Inbox Zero talk</a> (turn your e-mail into actions). In a post titled &quot;<a href="http://www.43folders.com/2008/09/08/four-years">Four Years</a>,&quot; Mann sketches out how his site, 43 Folders, grew from a personal dumping ground for his &quot;mental sausage&quot; into a full-featured destination for productivity nerds and life-hackers. In 2005, he experienced a key transition:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>At some point that year, 43f became the surreal and unexpected circus tent under which my family began drawing an increasing amount of its income. This was weird, but it was also exactly as gratifying as it sounds. Which is to say, &quot;very.&quot; But, my small measure of something like success did not go unnoticed. In fact, the popularity of small blogs like 43 Folders contributed to the arrival of a gentrifying wagon train of carpetbaggers, speculators, and confidence men, all eager to pan the web's glistening riverbed for easy gold. And, brother, did these guys love to post and post and post.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Mann's problem was especially acute. His income was partially dependent on advertising, and ads are sold on a cost-per-impression basis. That is, the more traffic you have, the more ads you can sell (and also the more chances that someone will click on one of the Google ads or affiliate links on your site). But a site that teaches you how to streamline your tasks and free your time yet constantly shovels new posts, lists, and information at you is oxymoronic—and also kind of moronic.</p>
<p>Mann could have overlooked this contradiction, but he chose instead to live his advice. Declaring an end to &quot;productivity pr0n,&quot; Mann has promised fewer, better posts and rolled out a new mission statement: &quot;43 Folders is Merlin Mann's website about finding the time and attention to do your best creative work.&quot; The further irony here is that Mann's less-is-more strategy may prove to be more profitable. The usability guru Jakob Nielsen has long recommended that experts &quot;<a href="http://www.useit.com/alertbox/articles-not-blogs.html">write articles, not blog postings</a>,&quot; with the idea that demonstrating expertise is the best way to distinguish yourself from Internet amateurs and ultimately persuade someone to pay you for your insights. In Mann's case, that might mean less ad revenue but more speaking engagements.</p>
<p>Once a blog hobbyist goes pro, he or she faces a daily pressure to churn out new material. In the wrong mind, that can lead to top-10 lists, recycled ideas, half-baked notions, lots of viral videos, and a general increase in information pollution. Is there any way out of this scenario? In 2005, Jason Kottke announced that he had quit his job to blog full-time and <a href="http://kottke.org/05/02/kottke-micropatron">asked his readers to become &quot;micropatrons&quot;</a> at a suggested rate of $30. He received $39,900 from 1,450 people but <a href="http://www.kottke.org/06/02/oh-what-a-year">abandoned the experiment after a year</a>. Kottke is vague about the reasons why he swore off micropatronage, but he suggests that he was worried that people wouldn't donate year after year. In order to build a bigger audience and potential new donors, he would have had to do some of the cheesy things to drive traffic (i.e., &quot;Top Five Best&quot; posts) and/or become a cult of personality (overshare, start flame wars, social network relentlessly). These days, he accepts ads as part of the Deck network.</p>
<p>The bloggers at the vanguard of the post-quality-vs.-post-quantity debate are those who work for Nick Denton's Gawker media. This year, Denton <a href="http://valleywag.com/339271/denton-to-pay-bloggers-based-on-traffic">introduced a new pay system</a> that gave his bloggers a base salary and also paid them a quarterly bonus based upon the amount of page views their items receive. Or to oversimplify, they were being paid by popularity. (To follow the complicated ins and outs of the &quot;blogonomics&quot; of the Gawker pay structure, read <a href="http://www.portfolio.com/views/blogs/market-movers/2008/04/04/blogonomics-valleywag-pay-slashed">Felix Salmon's <em>Portfolio </em>blog</a>.) The memo explains the decision as an effort to reward and encourage more original, scoopy items, but, as Denton's writers and ex-writers quickly pointed out, there's not an obvious correlation between quality and page views. Despite a few exceptions, such as the <a href="http://gawker.com/5002269/the-cruise-indoctrination-video-scientology-tried-to-suppress">Tom Cruise Scientology video</a>, no one can predict a <a href="http://failblog.org/">Web hit</a>. </p>
<p>Do we get the blogs we deserve? We vote by click, after all. Perhaps we shouldn't look at all those top 10 lists and Britney Spears photos. Successful blogs, such as <a href="http://zenhabits.net/">Zen Habits</a>, tend to balance the more fast-food type posts with longer, more complex ideas that will presumably keep readers coming back—although there are plenty of people who make a living posting dubious crap. Perhaps the escape route out of a hit-driven blogosphere is all of our newfound &quot;friends.&quot; The Internet has always been very good at counting page views but not so great at assigning value to what's actually in those pages. <a href="http://www.facebook.com/">Facebook</a>, <a href="http://friendfeed.com/">FriendFeed</a>, <a href="http://www.stumbleupon.com/">StumbleUpon</a>, and the sharing feature of <a href="http://www.google.com/help/reader/sharing.html">Google Reader</a> have their annoying, nudgy aspects, but they allow us to rely on one another to sort out what is interesting and worthy. Put it on a <a href="http://www.threadless.com/">T-shirt</a>: Friends Don't Let Friends Read Bad Content.</p>
<p><em><strong> <a>Correction</a>, Oct. 3:</strong>The article originally misidentified the Hipster PDA as a modified Moleskine notebook. In fact, that is a later variation on the Hipster PDA. The original idea involved only index cards and a binder clip. (<a href="http://www.slate.com#B">Return</a> to the corrected sentence.)</em></p>Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:28:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2008/10/blogging_for_dollars.htmlMichael Agger2008-10-01T22:28:00ZHow do bloggers make money?TechnologyHow do bloggers make money?2201325Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2201325falsefalsefalseHow do bloggers make money?How do bloggers make money?Professional bloggers face pressure to produce quantity over qualityGoing Darkhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2008/08/going_dark.html
<p> The good ol' Internet: always coming up with new solutions to old problems. Modern man suspects wife is up to something. Modern man installs <a href="http://www.pcpandora.com/about_us/">PC Pandora</a>, a spyware application that records keystrokes, takes surreptitious screen shots, and monitors chat sessions—all for the low, low price of $49.95. Success! Modern man writes a congratulatory note to the company, which it posts on its &quot;<a href="http://www.pcpandora.com/testimonials/">testimonials</a>&quot; page:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>My wife of 25 years came out of the blue after Christmas this past year and requested a divorce without much explanation. I was devastated, so I purchased your product. It only took two days to find out she has been living a dark secret life for several years as a submissive love slave to a dominant male partner in the BDSM world meeting him at least once a month. She was blown out of the water when I told her everything I knew about her lifestyle even down to the name and email address of the person she is involved with. Answered all my questions. She has no clue and thinks I spent $$$$$$ on a private investigator.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Despite modern man's feelings of triumph, it's hard to see any winners there. It's easier than ever to spy on our spouses, co-workers, boyfriends, and roommates. But does this make us happier and wiser or just more neurotic and creepy? The lesson of every surveillance movie, from <em>The Conversation</em> to <em>The Lives of Others</em>, is that listening in corrupts your peace of mind and destroys your emotional intuition. </p>
<p>Explore the world of commercial &quot;spy&quot; software and you quickly discover three main battlegrounds: girlfriends/wives vs. boyfriends/husbands, employers vs. employees, and parents vs. teenagers. You also read some of the most twisted moral logic ever committed to screen.</p>
<p>When the <a href="http://www.pcpandora.com/">PC Pandora site</a> opens, for example, a trim lady in a pink shirt pops up and cheerfully declares: &quot;At this very moment, there are over 50,000 pedophiles on the Internet trying to take advantage of our children.&quot; Well then, I better install a program that records everything my kids do online and then spend my afternoons scanning the logs! In the eyes of these monitoring-software companies, MySpace is the devil's playground. The promotional copy often gives the impression that setting up a page on MySpace is but <a href="http://www.spyonyourkids.net/spy_on_myspace_bad_examples.php">the merest pretext to an after-school Roman orgy</a>. The message: If you don't know what &quot;LMIRL&quot; or &quot;NIFOC&quot; or &quot;POS&quot; means, you might as well drop your daughter off at a truck stop right now. (That's &quot;let's meet in real life,&quot; &quot;naked in front of the computer,&quot; and &quot;parent over shoulder.&quot;)</p>
<p>It's also worth noting how these sites stress their excellent <em>phone </em>support—the software packages are being pitched predominately to the technically clueless. If Mom and Dad did know how to use a computer, they could easily find a recent study by the University of New Hampshire's Crimes Against Children Research Center, &quot;<a href="http://www.apa.org/journals/releases/amp632111.pdf">Online 'Predators' and Their Victims: Myths, Realities and Implications for Prevention</a>.&quot; Or, quicker yet, they could read an <a href="http://www.livescience.com/health/080306-bad-web-predator.html">excellent summary of the study</a> by Benjamin Radford at <a href="http://www.livescience.com/">LiveScience</a>. As he explains, the biggest threat to kids is still their parents, the Internet has not increased the amount of sexual abuse of children, and most Web predators rarely use deception as &quot;most victims are well aware that the person they are communicating with online is an adult interested in sex.&quot; Monitor your kids if you want, but recognize that you are spying on them, not protecting them from a new strain of evildoers. </p>
<p>The Pandora software is aptly named. It evokes both the dubious idea that the computer is a Pandora's box which holds all of our secrets, and the obvious end result of any snooping: Once this stuff gets out, you wish it could be put back in. The snooper also faces the unavoidable dilemma that any information that he or she finds out almost certainly won't be worse than the breach of trust of installing monitoring software. That's why these applications sell themselves under the guise of &quot;protecting your family&quot; rather than &quot;seeing what YouTube videos your husband watches.&quot; We all deserve to have a public self and a backstage self, even if that backstage self has a <a href="http://pressedfur.coolfreepages.com/press/vanityfair/">plushie fetish</a>.</p>
<p>The office landscape is more clear-cut: Bosses want employees to &quot;be productive&quot;; employees want to look at ESPN.com on occasion. Or, perhaps, pornography. It's not so much that <em>everyone</em> is looking at porn. It's that the people who look at porn tend to look at a lot of it. A <a href="http://yro.slashdot.org/article.pl?sid=08/05/22/1215204">commenter on Slashdot</a> proposes a vivid solution for his own workplace:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I stopped &quot;special&quot; surfing at the office when I put a linux box on a hub between the network internet router and the switches. I simply sniffed all traffic for image files and displayed it on a 42&quot; LCD out in the sales area. Images were displayed of what people were surfing. I also attached the ip address of the user to the image. It stopped inappropriate internet surfing in that office in 3 days. When everyone can see what you are doing, you get back to real work.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Good point, but it gets tricky when you try to decide what constitutes &quot;getting back to real work.&quot; Some <a href="http://www.techdirt.com/articles/20070724/article_lite.php?sid=20070724/231121">argue that a little personal surfing at work actually makes employees more productive</a>. Software &quot;solutions&quot; like <a href="http://www.beawarecorporate.com/more_info.html">BeAware (Corporate Edition)</a> and the creepy <a href="http://www.spector360.com/">Spector360</a> (&quot;Who is arriving to work late and leaving early? Who takes long lunch breaks?&quot;) seem pitched to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Brent">David Brents</a> of the world. The makers of the Spector360 will tell you that their product will &quot;significantly reduce the amount of goofing off that has grown common in most workplaces (one hour per day per employee, on average).&quot; What they won't tell you is that you're a jerk. If your employees are watching &quot;<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kkT7A3jegBc">Funny Cats 3</a>&quot; all day long, the problem isn't unfiltered access to the Internet. The problem is that your workplace is boring, and probably very sad.</p>
<p>Which brings us to boyfriends, girlfriends, significant others, etc. The monitoring-software sites know that a jealous lover is a moth to their flame. They try to give your motive a scientific, fact-finding air, offering such tips as PC Pandora's &quot;<a href="http://www.pcpandora.com/cheaters/29signs.php">29 Signs Your Partner May Be Cheating</a>.&quot; (My favorite: &quot;You might find that they are suddenly grooming themselves more diligently.&quot;) The testimonials include those who are happy to have found out the truth, like our BDSM friend, and the <a href="http://www.spyarsenal.com/should-i-spy.html">FAQs float the sketchy idea</a> that even a &quot;hidden secret&quot; can destroy a relationship, so it's better to install the software and get confirmation. Nice try.</p>
<p>The spying dynamic on the battlegrounds of love hasn't changed since Shakespeare: so tempting, so ruinous. This fellow, <a href="http://www.experienceproject.com/confessions.php?cid=24262">who posted on the Experience Project</a>, speaks for all of his brethren:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I have developed an extremely unhealthy habit in my relationship with my fiance[e]. Unbeknownst to her, I have installed onto our computer a key logging spy software which let me see all her activities and passwords. Since then, I have read all of her accounts: my space, face book, gmail, everything. ... I hate myself because I have read very candid and personal letters and correspondence between her and her ex lovers. Logically, I know that they have nothing to do with me b/c she didn't even know me then, but I still find myself incredibly jealous. I hate myself for lying to her like this. I have even found nude photos of her that she sent to her ex. ... I didn't lie to her in the beginning of our relationship, but now I feel more and more obsessed and it's awful!</p>
</blockquote>
<p>One way out might be to confess and turn this all into a screenplay, but <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0361841/">that's been done before</a>. </p>
<p>In the end, the safest and best sort of spying seems to be of the Socratic variety: Know thyself. I've let <a href="http://www.last.fm/">Last.fm</a> monitor my music-listening habits, and now it gives eerily good recommendations. Google eavesdrops on my computer so that it can personalize my search results, track my Web history, and rearrange my furniture sometimes. I've also fired up the Firefox extension <a href="http://meetimer.productivefirefox.com/">MeeTimer</a>, which records the amount of time I spend procrastinating on particular sites. (Damn you, <a href="http://www.handdrawngames.com/DesktopTD/Game.asp">Desktop Tower Defense</a>!) The results of my personal espionage? Probably the same as yours: No man is a hero to his valet, or to his computer.</p>Tue, 12 Aug 2008 16:21:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2008/08/going_dark.htmlMichael Agger2008-08-12T16:21:00ZSpying on other people's computers.TechnologySpying on other people's computers.2197179Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2197179falsefalsefalseSpying on other people's computers.Spying on other people's computers.I Look Stupidhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2008/07/i_look_stupid.html
<p> Lately, the Internet has been trying—politely—to find out what I look like. Gmail suggested that I upload a photo &quot;that everyone will see when you email them.&quot; My new Apple computer asked whether it could take a webcam shot for iChat. And Facebook was so annoyed with my question mark icon (where a photo would normally be) that it found a photo of me that someone else had tagged, surrounded my head with a red square, and asked whether it might make a good profile picture. The text-y era of the <a href="http://www.unc.edu/depts/jomc/academics/dri/idog.jpg">nobody-knows-you're-a-dog</a> Internet is ending. You either have a head shot or you're invisible.</p>
<p>How to solve this modern problem? At times like this, it's best to turn to the wisdom of British journalists. This <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2000/sep/11/pressandpublishing.mondaymediasection1">article in the <em>Guardian</em></a> classifies head shots into nine groups, such as the hand job, the gormless grin, I'm a star too, prop or gimmick, and making friends. I found the hand job—&quot;A hand framing or supporting face is easily the most popular pose,&quot; says the <em>Guardian</em>—of particular interest, because, after grimacing in front of my web cam for a half-hour (and feeling like a high-school sophomore), that's the solution I came up with. Here's the <em>Guardian</em>'s take: &quot;Pro: Versatile, conveys quizzical image. Con: Can look camp or arch.&quot;</p>
<p>Remember for a moment how much attention people used to lavish on the perfect quote for their e-mail signature. Now that self-conscious energy is applied to a photo. There's nothing inherently bad about the rise of Web head shots. They just turn what was once a space for burgeoning Cyrano de Begeracs into a space for burgeoning Brad Pitts. Read the stark conclusion of <a href="http://www2.psych.purdue.edu/~kip/392F/Langlois.pdf">a 2000 meta-analysis of beauty studies</a> that tried, in a careful way, to discover whether beauty really was in the eye of the beholder: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>The effects of facial attractiveness are robust and pandemic, extending beyond initial impressions of strangers to actual interactions with those whom people know and observe. Contrary to the conventional wisdom, there is strong agreement both within and across cultures about who is and who is not attractive. Furthermore, attractiveness is a significant advantage for both children and adults in almost every domain of judgement, treatment, and behavior we examined.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>In other words, this analysis confirms the elegant Montaigne observation that it quotes: &quot;[Beauty] holds the first place in human relations; it presents itself before the rest, seduces and prepossesses our judgement with great authority and wondrous impression.&quot;</p>
<p>Montaigne didn't live to see Photoshop, however, or digital photography. These new tools are much in evidence on MySpace and Facebook, where everyone grapples with the head shot issue. I've found that the non-sex-worker photos on MySpace often have a pleasing &quot;what the hell&quot; quality, as if the person just uploaded the first thing they could find. Sprinkled among these are the aspiring seducers, whose ingenious, flaw-obscuring photos have given rise to the term &quot;<a href="http://www.officialdatingresource.com/beware-the-dreaded-myspace-angles-pics/">MySpace angles</a>.&quot; These include the tummy-hiding overhead shot and the &quot;check out my eye&quot; extreme close-up. Facebook, reflecting its clenched Ivy League origins, has a lot more staged and professional shots. Everyone either looks ready for the job or ready for the canoe ride.</p>
<p>On both sites, though, there are plenty of people who just don't care and upload tons of photos of themselves—even if this means losing the occasional job or two. (See &quot;<a href="http://valleywag.com/tech/your-privacy-is-an-illusion/bank-intern-busted-by-facebook-321802.php">Bank Intern Busted by Facebook</a>&quot; on Valleywag.) Alongside the blithe, there are those who are superconscious about managing their online images and who change their profile photos constantly in search of the perfect representation. (A seemingly casual yet flattering pic is the strived-for ideal; parents often take the easy way out and post a photo of their kid.) Finally, there are the resisters, who don't want any image of themselves online. If forced into a corner, they put up something jokey or ironic.</p>
<p>The more you think about Web head shots, the more loaded a social artifact they become. Scholars have begun to <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/03/fashion/03impression.html?pagewanted=print">examine &quot;impression management&quot; online</a>. One study posits that people with attractive friends on their Facebook &quot;wall&quot; benefit from a halo effect and are themselves perceived to be more attractive. Researchers have also done interesting things with yearbook photos (the original Web head shot). This study found that <a href="http://ist-socrates.berkeley.edu/~keltner/publications/harker.jpsp.2001.pdf">whether a woman smiles in her photo</a> (PDF) can predict &quot;favorable outcomes in marriage and personal well-being up to 30 years later.&quot; Sort of cool to know, but how does it apply to me? (And could it possibly be true?)</p>
<p>Naturally, the Internet has taken photo research into its own narcissistic hands with a creepy/fascinating site called <a href="http://facestat.com/">Facestat</a>. It's an inspired update of the venerable <a href="http://www.hotornot.com/">Hot or Not</a>, and approaches its mission—to get people to rate photos—from a quasi-scientific angle: </p>
<blockquote>
<p> <a href="http://facestat.com/faces">Upload</a> a photo, and choose some questions such as <em>&quot;How old do you think I am?&quot;</em> or <em>&quot;Do I seem trustworthy?&quot;</em> Within a couple hours, you will have detailed statistics about how people feel about the picture you provide. It's like market research for the individual. And it's free!</p>
</blockquote>
<p>It's market research for the individual! Not some shallow exercise for the insecure!</p>
<p>The site's most addictive feature is its request that face-judgers use a single word to describe each photo. This leads to all sorts of creativity and randomness. My own photo was tagged with the following adjectives: &quot;ewwwww,&quot; &quot;sailor,&quot; &quot;bored,&quot; &quot;BritishCute&quot; (I assume that's a good thing), &quot;insane,&quot; &quot;boring,&quot; &quot;lol,&quot; &quot;forehead,&quot; &quot;Gentleman,&quot; &quot;contrasting,&quot; and &quot;LeeHarveyOswald!!!!!!&quot; The crowd did display some wisdom by guessing my age and political orientation correctly.</p>
<p>To date, Facestat has collected 16,818,344 judgments on 126,090 faces. The people behind the site, a group of programmers called <a href="http://doloreslabs.com/">Dolores Labs</a>, have played with the data in fun ways. They noted which <a href="http://blog.doloreslabs.com/2008/05/facestat-tag-relationships/">pairs of tags tend to appear together</a>—<em>athletic</em> and <em>driven</em>, <em>gay</em> and <em>cowboy</em>, <em>old</em> and <em>sour</em>, <em>young</em> and <em>uninterested</em>. They've also built <a href="http://assets.doloreslabs.com/PerGraph.html">a graphical explorer</a>, with which you can follow the webs of adjectives for an entire afternoon. The promise of accurate &quot;market research&quot; hasn't been totally fulfilled. Looking around the site, I've found the crowd-sourced judgments to be fickle. For every person who thinks you're &quot;not bad,&quot; there's another that thinks you're phony—or worse.</p>
<p>So it seems that you, Internet person, are left with two options: Just pick a photo and go for it, or go the arty/ironic route. It's not as if you can stay hidden forever. Eventually someone will upload you to Flickr or tag you in a wedding pic wearing an unflattering, unchosen color. My own half-solution: I took a photo and ran it through something called the <a href="http://morph.cs.st-andrews.ac.uk/Transformer/">Face Transformer</a> that created a manga version of myself. It's me, but it's not really me. That's kind of how it feels to be online.</p>Tue, 15 Jul 2008 11:15:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2008/07/i_look_stupid.htmlMichael Agger2008-07-15T11:15:00ZHow to take a Web head shot.TechnologyHow to take a Web head shot.2195142Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2195142falsefalsefalseHow to take a Web head shot.How to take a Web head shot.Lazy Eyeshttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2008/06/lazy_eyes.html
<p>You're probably going to read this.</p>
<p>It's a short paragraph at the top of the page. It's surrounded by white space. It's in small type.</p>
<p>To really <strong>get your attention</strong>, I should write like this:</p>
<ul>
<li>
<div>
Bulleted list
</div> </li>
<li>
<div>
Occasional use of
<strong>bold</strong> to prevent skimming
</div> </li>
<li>
<div>
Short sentence fragments
</div> </li>
<li>
<div>
Explanatory subheads
</div> </li>
<li>
<div>
No puns
</div> </li>
<li>
<div>
Did I mention lists?
</div> </li>
</ul>
<p><strong>What Is This Article About?<br /> </strong>For the past month, I've been away from the <strong>computer screen</strong>. Now I'm back <strong>reading </strong>on it many hours a day. Which got me thinking: How do we <strong>read</strong> online?</p>
<p><strong>It's a Jungle Out There<br /> </strong>That's <a href="http://www.useit.com/jakob/">Jakob Nielsen</a>'s theory. He's a <strong>usability expert</strong> who writes an influential <a href="http://www.useit.com/alertbox/">biweekly column</a> on such topics as <a href="http://www.useit.com/alertbox/reading_pattern.html">eye-tracking research</a>, <a href="http://www.useit.com/alertbox/9605.html">Web design errors</a>, and <a href="http://www.useit.com/alertbox/banner-blindness.html">banner blindness</a>. (<strong>Links</strong>, btw, give a text <strong>more authority</strong>, making you more likely to stick around.)</p>
<p>Nielsen champions the idea of <a href="http://www.useit.com/alertbox/20030630.html">information foraging</a>. Humans are <strong>informavores</strong>. On the Internet, we hunt for facts. In earlier days, when switching between sites was time-consuming, we tended to stay in one place and dig. Now we assess a site quickly, looking for an &quot;<strong>information scent</strong>.&quot; We move on if there doesn't seem to be any food around.</p>
<p>Sorry about the long paragraph. (<a href="http://www.virtualhosting.com/blog/2007/scientific-web-design-23-actionable-lessons-from-eye-tracking-studies/">Eye-tracking studies show</a> that online readers tend to <strong>skip</strong> large blocks of text.)</p>
<p>Also, I'm probably forcing you to scroll at this point. Losing some <strong>incredible percentage</strong> of readers. Bye. Have fun on <strong>Facebook</strong>.</p>
<p><strong>Screens vs. Paper<br /> </strong>What about the <strong>physical process</strong> of reading on a screen? How does that compare to paper?</p>
<p>When you look at <a href="http://www.ischool.utexas.edu/~adillon/Journals/Reading.htm">early research</a>, it's fascinating to see that even in the days of green phosphorus monitors, studies found that there wasn't a huge difference in speed and comprehension between reading on-screen and reading on paper. Paper was the clear winner only when test subjects were asked to skim the text.</p>
<p>The studies are not definitive, however, given all the factors that can affect online reading, such as scrolling, font size, user expertise, etc. Nielsen holds that on-screen reading is <a href="http://www.useit.com/alertbox/whyscanning.html">25 percent slower than reading on paper</a>. Even so, experts agree on what you can do to make screen reading more comfortable:</p>
<ul>
<li>
<div>
Choose a
<strong>default font</strong> designed for screen reading; e.g., Verdana, Trebuchet, Georgia.
</div> </li>
<li>
<div>
<strong>Rest</strong> your eyes for 10 minutes every 30 minutes.
</div> </li>
<li>
<div>
Get a
<strong>good monitor</strong>. Don't make it too bright or have it too close to your eyes.
</div> </li>
<li>
<div>
Minimize reflections.
</div> </li>
<li>
<div>
Skip long lines of text, which&nbsp;promote fatigue.
</div> </li>
<li>
<div>
Avoid
<strong>MySpace</strong>.
</div> </li>
</ul>
<p><strong>Back to the Jungle<br /> </strong>Nielsen's apt description of the online reader: <strong>&quot;[U]sers are selfish, lazy, and ruthless</strong>.<strong>&quot; </strong>You, my dear user, pluck the low-hanging fruit. When you arrive on a page, you don't actually deign to read it. You scan. If you don't see what you need, you're gone.</p>
<p>And it's not you who has to <strong>change</strong>. It's me, the writer:</p>
<ul>
<li>
<div>
<strong>One idea</strong> per paragraph
</div> </li>
<li>
<div>
Half the
<strong>word count</strong> of &quot;conventional writing&quot;! (Ouch!)
</div> </li>
<li>
<div>
<a href="http://www.useit.com/alertbox/9710a.html">Other stuff</a> along these lines
</div> </li>
</ul>
<p>Nielsen often sounds like a cross between <strong>E.B. White</strong> and the <strong>Terminator</strong>. Here's his advice in a column titled &quot;<a href="http://www.useit.com/alertbox/content-strategy.html">Long vs. Short Articles as Content Strategy</a>&quot;: &quot;A good editor should be able to cut 40 percent of the word count while removing only 30 percent of an article's value. After all, the cuts should target the least valuable information.&quot;</p>
<p>[<em>Ed. Note</em>: <strong>Fascinating asides</strong> about the writer's voice, idiosyncrasies, and <strong>fragile ego</strong> were cut here.]</p>
<p><strong>He's Right<br /> </strong>I kid about Nielsen, but he's very sensible. We're <strong>active participants</strong> on the Web, looking for <strong>information</strong> and <strong>diversion</strong>. It's natural that people prefer short articles. As Nielsen states, motivated readers who want to know everything about a subject (i.e., parents trying to get their kid into a New York <strong>preschool</strong>) will read long treatises with semicolons, but the rest of us are snacking. His advice: <strong>Embrace hypertext</strong>. Keep things short for the masses, but offer links for the Type A's.</p>
<p><strong>No Blogs, Though<br /> </strong>Nielsen may be <strong>ruthless</strong> about brevity, but <a href="http://www.useit.com/alertbox/articles-not-blogs.html">he doesn't advocate blogging</a>. Here's his logic: &quot;Such postings are good for generating controversy and short-term traffic, and they're definitely easier to write. But they don't build sustainable value.&quot;</p>
<p>That's a <strong>debatable point</strong>. My experience has been that <a href="http://www.kottke.org/everfresh">a thoughtful blogger who tags his posts</a> can cover a subject well. But Nielsen's idea is that people will read (and maybe even pay) for <strong>expertise</strong> that they can't find anywhere else. If you want to<strong> beat the Internet</strong>, you're not going to do it by blogging (since even OK thinkers occasionally write a great blog post) but by offering a <strong>comprehensive take</strong> on a subject (thus saving the reader time from searching many sites) and supplying <strong>original thinking</strong> (offering trusted insight that cannot be easily duplicated by the nonexpert).</p>
<p>Like a lot of what Nielsen says, this is both obvious and thoughtful.</p>
<p><strong>Ludic Reading<br /> </strong>Nielsen focuses on how to hold people's attention to convey information. He's not overly concerned with <strong>pleasure reading</strong>.</p>
<p>Pleasure reading is also known as &quot;<strong>ludic reading</strong>.&quot; Victor Nell has <a href="http://www.educ.msu.edu/DWongLibrary/CEP991/Nell-RdngPleasure.pdf">studied pleasure reading</a> (PDF). Two fascinating notions:</p>
<ul>
<li>
<div>
When we like a text, we read more slowly.
</div> </li>
<li>
<div>
When we're really engaged in a text, it's like being in an effortless trance.
</div> </li>
</ul>
<p>Ludic reading can be achieved on the Web, but the environment works against you. Read a nice sentence, get dinged by IM, never return to the story again.</p>
<p>I suppose ludic readers would be the little sloths hiding in the jungle while everyone else is out rampaging around for fresh meat.</p>
<p><strong>Final Unnecessary Thought<br /> </strong>We'll do more and more reading on screens, but they won't replace paper—never mind what your friend with a Kindle tells you. Rather, paper seems to be the new Prozac. A balm for the distracted mind. It's contained, offline, tactile. William Powers writes about this elegantly in his essay &quot;<a href="http://www.ksg.harvard.edu/presspol/research_publications/papers/discussion_papers/D39.pdf">Hamlet's BlackBerry: Why Paper Is Eternal</a>.&quot; He describes the white stuff as &quot;a still point, an anchor for the consciousness.&quot;</p>
<p><em> <a href="http://www.princeton.edu/~batke/moby/">Moby Dick</a></em> has become a spa.</p>
<p><strong><em> <a href="http://www.slate.com/">Slate</a></em></strong> is Grand Central Station.</p>
<p>OK, you may <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBGIQ7ZuuiU">leave now</a>.</p>Fri, 13 Jun 2008 17:00:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2008/06/lazy_eyes.htmlMichael Agger2008-06-13T17:00:00ZHow we read online.TechnologyHow we read online.2193552Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2193552falsefalsefalseHow we read online.How we read online.Laughing Baby vs. the YouTube Commentershttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2008/04/laughing_baby_vs_the_youtube_commenters.html
<p>What happens when pure good meets pure evil? I exaggerate, but only slightly. A year and a half ago, a Swedish father posted a video of his son laughing on YouTube:</p>
<p>A few months later, the video was reposted by another YouTube user. This second version of the video has racked up 45 million views, putting it ninth on the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/browse?t=a&amp;p=1&amp;s=mp&amp;c=0&amp;l=">All-Time Viewed list</a>, behind Alicia Keys and ahead of Akon. Two weeks ago, &quot;Laughing Baby&quot; achieved nerd immortality by <a href="http://www.southparkstudios.com/clips/165196/">appearing in an episode of <em>South Park</em></a>.</p>
<p>Like many baby videos, &quot;Laughing Baby&quot; was placed on YouTube to share with friends. But I'm always surprised that parents put these videos up, considering what fate awaits them: YouTube commenters. It's like dipping a bunny into acid.</p>
<p>In our time, Internet commenting has become its own special form of social idiocy. The best demonstration of this is a <a href="http://www.collegehumor.com/video:1776175">series of brilliant skits</a> by College Humor that imagine what real-life situations would be like if people spoke as Internet commenters. (In &quot;Internet Commenter Business Meeting,&quot; for example, a guy yells &quot;First!&quot; every time a new graphic is shown.) YouTube comments are harsher than those on message boards—something about watching a video inspires noxious responses—and also more random. It's as if there were unwritten commandments: No woman's boobs shall go unjudged; no man shall not be called gay; no popular video shall not be spammed with &quot;KKK FOR LIFE!!!&quot;</p>
<p>What happens when a sweet laughing baby encounters the YouTube commenters? To find out, I powerbrowsed the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/comment_servlet?all_comments&amp;v=5P6UU6m3cqk&amp;fromurl=/watch%3Fv%3D5P6UU6m3cqk">57,840 comments</a> (and counting) for &quot;Laughing Baby.&quot; Things start off well with &quot;lol. when﻿ people laugh, i tend to laugh so i was cracking up&quot; and &quot;Cute,﻿ cute, cutee!!!&quot; Soon, however, the malcontents appear: &quot;This child is possessed by satan. Exorcism needs to be﻿ performed.&quot; And more insidiously: &quot;Guaranteed there are perverts watching this.&quot; And more emphatically: &quot;INSANE DWARF.&quot;</p>
<p>To be fair to YouTube, the majority of comments salute Laughing Baby's cuteness, adorableness, and all-around joy-bringing abilities. (My favorite was this grudging praise: &quot;DUDE IM A GUY AND IM SAYING HES CUTE.&quot;) The noncute comments cluster into these areas of inquiry:</p>
<p><strong>Armchair pediatricians:</strong> Many people think that Laughing Baby is sick: &quot;The baby is very sweet, but he sounds asthmatic. They should have him checked out.&quot; Even better: &quot;I read a scientific study that had to do with dopamine levels in toddlers and how they affected their personality. This little guy obviously enjoys the dopamine 'high' he's getting out of laughing this much. Unfortunately, children like this have very high rates of drug use later in life. Strange, but true.&quot; The armchair pediatricians also declare a persistent belief that people can die from laughing too hard.</p>
<p><strong>Drugs: </strong>The majority of drug commenters use their wisdom to discern that Laughing Baby is obviously high, or that the father must have smoked up just before the video was shot. Other suggested influences include crack, nitrous, and peaches with crack in them. The notion that Laughing Baby <em>himself</em> could be used as a drug is often aired. </p>
<p><strong>Actual analysis: </strong>Very rare. &quot; 'Bing' appears to be more humorous than 'Dong' &quot; being the most astute observation that I came across.</p>
<p><strong>Good wisecracks: </strong>Also rare. &quot;Birth of a Dane Cook fan&quot; and&nbsp;&quot;Better Than Cats&quot; are the highlights.</p>
<p><strong>The horror:</strong> Many commenters write that the baby's laugh is evil and not funny or joy-bringing. Laughing Baby is &quot;like a Scottie dog with rabies&quot; or the &quot;son of Hitler,&quot; and watching him will lead to nightmares. Closely related to these commenters are those who say they watch Laughing Baby and wish never to have children.</p>
<p><strong>Sounds like: </strong>Laughing Baby's cackle is compared to smoker's cough, an old man laughing, Conan O'Brien, the guy in <em>Saw</em>, &quot;Chucky and Exorcist combined,&quot; and Joe Pesci. </p>
<p><strong>Predictions: </strong>Laughing Baby will ... be a 350-pound American, grow up to be a cheerful person, be the next Jim Carrey, have a great personality, be a &quot;freaking awesome person. maybe annoying at times. but freaking awesome,&quot; be a comedian, be a rapist or something, be an actor, be a politician, be a zookeeper, find a cure for cancer.</p>
<p><strong>Sell-out advice: </strong>Laughing Baby should be on <em>America's Funniest Home Videos</em>. Laughing Baby's laugh should be sold as a ringtone.</p>
<p><strong>Look at me: </strong>The slightly craftier spammers offer praise for Laughing Baby before plugging their own videos. This guy had the best pitch: &quot;if you have 14 seconds. I have a life changing video on my profile. (you will never forget it until the day you die, and maybe even after that).&quot;</p>
<p><strong>Mean: </strong>The occasional commenter will get provoked by all the cute remarks and say that Laughing Baby has a &quot;bigass forehead&quot; or that he'd like to see Laughing Baby laughing &quot;while engulfed in flames.&quot; These comments typically set off little wars, such as, &quot;Don't hate on the baby,&quot; &quot;You obviously have no life and no children,&quot; and so on.</p>
<p><strong>Religious: </strong>Some commenters speculate that Laughing Baby might be the voice of God. I assume this is not meant literally, but rather that Laughing Baby was sent to YouTube by God to make us all happy. One commenter suggested that Laughing Baby &quot;must be a jewish baby&quot; (because he has a sense of humor?), while others assumed he was Buddhist, while still others asked that Allah make him a Muslim.</p>
<p><strong>Insane: </strong>&quot;Retarded human infant!!! I will destroy you all!!!!&quot; and &quot;Imagine the US president being honest like this baby—the world would be more peaceful, I think!&quot;</p>
<p>After reading a few thousand comments, they begin to fade into similar patterns: cute, cute, cute, evil, spam, I think the baby is ugly, How can you think that!, cute, cute, I want to have a baby, cute, baby is high, look at my videos, cute, just like my kid, cute, LOL, cute, cute, etc., etc. It's soon overly clear that the comments aren't a conversation or debate. Laughing Baby has become an Internet monument, and posting a remark is like tagging your name on the Statue of Liberty. </p>
<p>Still, there is one meaningful debate that can be gleaned from the tumult. There are those who complain that Laughing Baby is a pointless waste of time, while others respond that happiness is made up of small, simple pleasures like the laughter of a little boy. It's a debate that speaks to the essence of YouTube itself. Do these little video distractions buoy our spirits and connect us to our fellow humans, or are we frittering away our time and talents with two-minute diversions? Do we laugh at the Laughing Baby, or is the Laughing Baby laughing at us?</p>Wed, 16 Apr 2008 17:23:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2008/04/laughing_baby_vs_the_youtube_commenters.htmlMichael Agger2008-04-16T17:23:00ZA battle of Internet good and Internet evil.TechnologyLaughing Baby vs. the YouTube commenters.2189281Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2189281falsefalsefalseLaughing Baby vs. the YouTube commenters.Laughing Baby vs. the YouTube commenters.Hulu Hooplahttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2008/03/hulu_hoopla.html
<p> For the past couple of years, TV and the Internet have existed in a pleasant state of harmony. If forced to watch live television (by breaking news, by sports), you could surf the Web during commercials and dull moments. The laptop-TV combo was ideal, enfolding you in a narcotic halo of constant information.</p>
<p>That ideal is becoming a memory, though. Web sites have sprouted video arrows where paragraphs once stood, and television is trying to figure out how to fit in online—where the kids hang out and the advertising dollars increasingly flow. Meanwhile, the people who run the television networks have had a chance to see what happened to the music labels. Because of MP3s, an entire generation expects to get songs for free. Television shows, which can be encoded into relatively small files, have long since fallen into the hands of peer-to-peer networks and the BitTorrent brigades. It's only a matter of time before Average Joe Internet starts downloading his favorite shows commercial-free.</p>
<p>But just as the Internet is poised to destroy commercial television, it may also rescue it. The life raft is called <a href="http://www.hulu.com/">Hulu</a>, a site that debuted this month. It demonstrates how TV might thrive in the Web environment of comments, ratings, and the wisdom of the crowds. </p>
<p>Back when YouTube launched in 2005, the site became a playground of copyrighted content, one that spurred new viewing habits. Missed <em>The Daily Show</em>? You knew that Jon Stewart's monologue would be on YouTube the next day. The site effectively functioned as a user-driven highlight reel of television, music videos, sports, and movies. It was on its way to becoming a vast content cloud of any visual moment that someone had a notion to upload. YouTube wasn't TV—it required you to lean forward into the screen rather than lean back and vegetate—but it was a lot more fun, and there weren't any commercials.</p>
<p>Enter the lawsuits. Viacom, et al., soon put the kibosh on most of the copyrighted content. If you wanted to watch the latest Andy Samberg <em>SNL</em> short, you had to go to <a href="http://www.nbc.com/">NBC.com</a>. Jon Stewart and Colbert moved to the <a href="http://www.comedycentral.com/">Comedy Central site</a>. The professional stuff was split up between places that often required registration and different kinds of players. Meanwhile, the loss of copyrighted content made YouTube seem more amateur and bizarre—the camgirls and the near-porn that had lurked on the margins were suddenly the main course. The site also lost its aura of totality. YouTube was no longer the <em>Hitchhiker's Guide to the Video Universe</em>.</p>
<p>Once the networks succeeded in getting their content pulled, they promised to launch a &quot;YouTube killer.&quot; That turned out be an empty and inexact threat. YouTube didn't really need the &quot;real&quot; shows and movies to sustain itself. It soon developed its own freaky internal chemistry. (At this point, it's probably best to think of YouTube as a genre unto itself.) What we the people and the networks really wanted was a YouTube Pro—a site that would aggregate television shows and movies in one place and stream them in high-quality video.</p>
<p>With <a href="http://www.hulu.com/">Hulu</a>, Fox and NBC (and their partners) have launched the best YouTube Pro yet. The site puts the shows and movies front and center. No registration, no special players. Click on <em>The Simpsons</em>. Get <em>The</em><em>Simpsons</em>. You can watch in full screen. Recently, I couched myself with my laptop for a few episodes of <em>30 Rock</em>. Hulu placed two ads in each episode at appropriate times—standard 30-second spots for Priceline.com (starring William Shatner). It was a pleasant way to watch TV—almost Swiss in its subtle consumerism. There was also an efficiency aspect that appealed, as I powered through a half-hour episode in 22 minutes. But, for someone raised on the old tube, it's somehow disconcerting to see TV on the computer screen. It's as if you're in college, and your friend who's the biggest partier shows up for the 9 a.m. econ lecture. </p>
<p>Hulu has been available to knowledgeable Web users for a while (<a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/buzz/Hulu_Backdoor">people figured out the URLs for all the shows</a>). And most computer-literate folks can watch anything they want on the Web, anyway, whether through BitTorrent or some other means. Hulu is about putting TV on the Web for the so-called &quot;silver surfers&quot; (aka old people), the lazy, the clueless, and the <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/05/business/media/05video.html?_r=1&amp;oref=slogin">lunchtime prime-time</a> crowd. Both the site's content and presentation are resolutely mainstream. The &quot;price&quot; you pay is that Hulu's offerings are limited to Fox, NBC, and their partners, and that the site sneaks commercials into and around the shows in a modest way.</p>
<p>If Hulu catches on, there will be more ads and a less pleasant viewing experience—especially considering the trend that the more time you spend on the Internet, the less TV you watch. But what's most tantalizing about Hulu is how it throws shows such as <em>The Simpsons, House</em>, and <em>American Dad</em> and movies such as <em>The Big Lebowksi </em>and <em>Some Like It Hot</em> into the wilderness of Web 2.0. Hulu users can rate the content and leave comments. Like YouTube, the shows are collected in lists of &quot;Most Watched Today&quot; and &quot;Most Watched All-Time.&quot; The movies are broken into clips that can also be rated and compiled into most-watched lists.</p>
<p>For Hulu to become a true YouTube Pro—a site with complete movie and television archives—would require a historic level of corporate cooperation. For now, the site reminds us of the joys of television as a communal experience—One Nation, Under Pop Culture. With TiVos and DVDs, everyone is time-shifted. You've got one friend who's watching <em>The Office</em> Season 2 and another who's savoring every season of <em>Gilmore Girls</em>. What Hulu could do is create a global top 10 list. Here are the shows and clips that everyone is watching. Discuss. </p>
<p>So far, the most popular episodes reflect the limited offerings and the geekiness/maleness of the early adopters: <em>The Simpsons</em>, <em>Family Guy, The Girl Next Door</em>. But when the voting and commenting crowds arrive, and more women show up, and more shows and movies get added, Hulu has the chance to be a fascinating microclimate. What's the all-time best episode of <em>The Simpsons</em>? What's the <a href="http://www.hulu.com/show/572/bring-it-on">most exquisite moment in <em>Bring It On</em></a>? If I were to watch only one <em>Facts of Life</em> minisode, which should it be? No more will these questions trouble us in our sleep.</p>Wed, 26 Mar 2008 18:29:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2008/03/hulu_hoopla.htmlMichael Agger2008-03-26T18:29:00ZIs a new site the future of television?TechnologyIs Hulu the future of television?2187501Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2187501falsefalsefalseIs Hulu the future of television?Is Hulu the future of television?Watching TV shows on Hulu.com2 Girls 1 Cup 0 Shamehttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2008/01/2_girls_1_cup_0_shame.html
<p> <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2183197"></a> <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2183197"></a> In the opening sentence of his landmark study <em>The Anatomy of Disgust</em>, law professor William Miller addresses the difficulty presented by his subject: &quot;Disgust raises special problems that closely related topics such as, say, sex do not.&quot; Later, he elaborates with a quote from another scholar: &quot;[C]ontact with the disgusting makes one disgusting. To study disgust is to risk contamination; jokes about his or her unwholesomeness soon greet the disgust researcher.&quot;</p>
<p>Disgust, it seems, is hard to investigate without being mocked or without becoming disgusting yourself. With those caveats in mind, let's turn to the phenomenon of 2 Girls 1 Cup. Immediately we run into trouble: 2 Girls 1 Cup is a video that's too disgusting to write about. In order to discuss (and perhaps learn from) 2 Girls 1 Cup, then, we must study the faces of those who have seen it.</p>
<p><em><strong>Click <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2182833/slideshow/2183197">here</a> &nbsp;for a slide show about 2 Girls 1 Cup reaction videos.</strong></em></p>
<p><strong><em>.</em></strong></p>
<p><strong><em>.</em></strong></p>
<p><strong><em>.</em></strong></p>Thu, 31 Jan 2008 20:25:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2008/01/2_girls_1_cup_0_shame.htmlMichael Agger2008-01-31T20:25:00ZWatching other people watch the most disgusting video of all time.TechnologyWatching other people watch 2 Girls 1 Cup.2182833Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2182833falsefalsefalseWatching other people watch 2 Girls 1 Cup.Watching other people watch 2 Girls 1 Cup.Google's Evil Eyehttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/10/googles_evil_eye.html
<p> Except for a moody period in my early 20s, I have not kept a journal. Yet, like many people, I do have a place where I regularly confide my fears, insecurities, and dreams: &quot;cell phone cancer link,&quot; &quot;michael agger slate,&quot; &quot;pennsylvania farm for sale.&quot; Google is always willing to listen—and to cough up details about high-school classmates. Although I knew that Google was recording my searches, tucking them away on some server somewhere, I never really worried about it. Maybe I should have.</p>
<p>A few months ago, a friend told me that he had stopped using Gmail. This seemed crazy. Gmail is free, it looks good, and you never have to delete anything. He thought it was a bad idea to entrust your personal communication to one company: &quot;You don't know what they do with your e-mail. Even if you delete it, it still exists on their servers.&quot; Another friend, a lawyer, told me how Gmail exists in a murky privacy area. Because the Google servers &quot;read&quot; your e-mail to place the ads that appear next to it, a note sent via Gmail may not be a protected communication in the same way that a letter sent through the postal service is. </p>
<p>Google's fingerprints aren't just on your e-mail. Last week, the Senate held hearings regarding Google's proposed acquisition of Doubleclick. Google dominates the micro-end of Internet advertising with its text ads. Doubleclick is the leading provider of banner ads, like the one at the top of this page. A combined Googleclick would be a force in Internet advertising—Google makes 99 percent of its profits from ads—and have an awesome ability to track your online behavior. Google will be able to inform advertisers what sites your browser has visited, what ads have been clicked on, what search terms have been used. The company can also get a good idea of your physical location from your computer's IP address. And that's just the tip of the data iceberg. If Sony wants to target teenage PlayStation 3 owners in Southern California with a special promotion on flatscreen TVs, who do you think they are going to call? </p>
<p>Once you start thinking of Google's potential reach, it's easy to become paranoid. I am presently a happy user of Gmail, Google Calendar, Google Reader, Google Earth, Google Maps, Google Docs, Google Chat, Google Groups, Google Video, and Google Notebook (which I use to clip interesting things online). I also love Google Desktop, which has indexed the contents of my computer. What has Google made of all this information? If they wanted, they could know my friends, my family, my weakness for <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TyuUcfiUVTU">homemade YouTube soccer highlights</a>. They could know what car I drive, where I drive it to, and where I shop. They definitely know what blogs I read and how often I read them. They took a picture of the building where I live. They just started <a href="http://www.google.com/goog411/">a 411 service</a> that will give them my voice. They're making me a <a href="http://www.engadget.com/tag/google%20phone/">mobile phone</a>. The attention they've lavished on me would be flattering, if it weren't so vaguely menacing. I'm not alone in this feeling.</p>
<p>When I called Daniel Brandt, Google's most persistent and dedicated critic, the conversation was a lot like discussing the grassy knoll circa 1966. He's based in Texas, drops the word <em>spook</em> a lot, and runs a site called <a href="http://www.google-watch.org/">Google Watch</a>, which, with its low-res gifs and multicolored links, has the feel of a mimeographed 'zine. On the phone, he's quick with dates and exasperated pronouncements. &quot;The high-tech press has been kowtowing to the Google line for the last seven years,&quot; he opined. &quot;There are a lot of meaningless things about the Google work environment. You can bring your dog to work. The name is funny-sounding and cute. But no one pays attention to the arrogance of the company.&quot; </p>
<p>Brandt first encountered that arrogance in 2002 when he discovered that the Google cookie—a file they put on your computer to identify your browser—wasn't set to expire until 2038. (It now expires in two years but renews itself whenever you use a Google site.) Brandt's main strike against Google is really a belief that it's acquiring information that is &quot;too delicious&quot; to keep under wraps. When we search, &quot;we reveal what our interests are and what our intentions are. What we might be doing tomorrow. That's the No. 1 thing spooks want to know about you.&quot; While there is no evidence that Google turns over information to the FBI or the NSA, the value of what Google gathers, Brandt holds, is simply too alluring to keep away from the government's eyes.</p>
<p>Brandt also has a more direct complaint: &quot;Google puts a lot of crap on the Web.&quot; He points to the search results, which used to be a simple list of sites and now have paid-for &quot;sponsored links&quot; at the top: &quot;Ninety-five percent of people don't know the difference between a sponsored link and a normal search result.&quot; In response, Brandt created a site called <a href="http://scroogle.org/">Scroogle</a>, which allows you to query Google anonymously and returns search results without ads or other Google ad-ons. Brandt also has an interesting take on how Google props up Wikipedia as a premier information source, since more than 50 percent of Wikipedia's traffic comes from Google searches. If you wish to enter further into Brandt's matrix, read about how he uncovered a likely MI-5 agent operating on Wikipedia under the alias Slimvirgin. The winding road starts <a href="http://wikipediareview.com/index.php?s=8e55e7bff6f51c3702863604b5870c1f&amp;showtopic=11180&amp;pid=40014&amp;mode=threaded&amp;show=&amp;st=&amp;#entry40014">here</a>. </p>
<p>Whether or not you agree with Brandt or <a href="http://www.epic.org/privacy/ftc/google/">other privacy watchdogs</a>, they outline the bargain we've entered into with Google. There's a video on YouTube called &quot;<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6gmP4nk0EOE">Web 2.0 … The Machine Is Us/ing Us</a>&quot; that illustrates (to a pleasing soundtrack) the idea that our links, searches, and clicking around teach the search engines our preferences, habits, and values. By Googling, we are supplying the company data with which to parse and analyze us. The resulting profile has a huge value for advertisers, especially as more of us ignore mass culture in favor of our online microclimates. The &quot;price&quot; that we pay for Google's free services is to present ourselves as better targets for niche marketing. </p>
<p><em>So what? </em>you might ask. Think back to the supposedly anonymous search logs released by AOL last year, which were quickly linked to individual users. Paul Boutin's <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2147590/">piece in <strong><em>Slate</em></strong></a> included this arresting detail: &quot;The searches of AOL user No. 672368 morphed over several weeks from 'you're pregnant he doesn't want the baby' to 'foods to eat when pregnant' to 'abortion clinics charlotte nc' to 'can christians be forgiven for abortion.' &quot; The chance our search records will get exposed is remote, but not impossibly remote. Google has responded by anonymizing search logs after 18 to 24 months, and by <a href="http://googleblog.blogspot.com/2006/10/our-security-stance.html">promising that our data are secure</a>.</p>
<p>Google seems mystified by those who ascribe bad intentions to it. The company wants to make advertising &quot;relevant and useful&quot; and the company's co-founder Sergey Brin sees search as more than just a way to find free music. &quot;The perfect search engine would be like the mind of God,&quot; he has said, and CEO Eric Schmidt spun visions of a future where Google helps you find your next job, or your real path in life. Give us the information, Google whispers, and we will tell you what you really think. The Oracle at Mountain View replaces the Oracle at Delphi. There are ways, of course, to avoid Google's gaze. You can delete your cookies often and, to be especially careful, get a new IP address assigned to your computer on a regular basis. You can also simply choose not to use Google. But there is essentially no way to opt-out of the dossier that Google has assembled about you. Except maybe the path that Brandt offered me: &quot;The only solution is to change your name to John Smith.&quot;</p>Wed, 10 Oct 2007 19:29:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/10/googles_evil_eye.htmlMichael Agger2007-10-10T19:29:00ZDoes the Big G know too much about us?TechnologyDoes Google know too much about us?2175651Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2175651falsefalsefalseDoes Google know too much about us?Does Google know too much about us?Ice Ice Babyhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/09/ice_ice_baby.html
<p> I'm not sure, but I think I went on date with a 12-year-old last night. We met at <a href="http://www.clubpenguin.com/">Club Penguin</a>, a social networking site for preteens. I was a blue penguin, new to town. She was pink, and carrying a surfboard.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Pink: &quot;hello&quot;<br />Me: &quot;hello&quot;<br />Pink: &quot;boy or girl?&quot;<br />Me: &quot;boy&quot;<br />Pink: &quot;im a girl&quot;<br />Me: &quot;kewl&quot;<br />Pink: [sends a heart emoticon]<br />Me: &quot;want to sled race?&quot;<br />Pink: &quot;yer funny&quot;</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Flipper-in-flipper, we waddled through the forest, stopped at the disco, and then played a little Find Four, the Club Penguin version of Connect Four. When Pink sent a message, &quot;brb,&quot; I slipped away to the mountain for some sled racing. Man's gotta be free!</p>
<p>Creating a penguin is simple, though the entire sign-up process emphasizes safety in such a way that a curious adult can't help feeling like a predator. The site asks you to &quot;Respect Other Penguins&quot; and &quot;Never Reveal Your Personal Information,&quot; and there is a button that parents can click on for reassurance that Club Penguin is nothing like MySpace. Establishing a sheltered haven in the Internet maelstrom is Club Penguin's selling point. The site offers &quot;Ultimate Safe Chat,&quot; in which a penguin can use only preselected words, and &quot;Standard Safe Chat,&quot; in which you can type any word, but all the words are screened by a filter. For example, it's very difficult to communicate a number in Club Penguin, which means no ages, no phone calls, no street addresses, no interstate rendezvous at Burger King. (I've seen penguins get around this by misspelling numbers, e.g., &quot;Im tweleve.&quot;) There are also moderators present in the penguin world, their presence noted by a big gold shield in the corner of the screen. Finally, in an Orwellian touch, penguins are encouraged to report other penguins who misbehave. </p>
<p>So, there I was: old enough to remember <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Voltron">Voltron</a>, beer in hand, sitting with my laptop, surrounded by (presumed) preteens. Club Penguin plopped me in the town center. Forty or so birds were milling about. Some were dancing, others throwing snowballs. As I gazed upon this scene, I remembered something that I had once read: If your body could stay the same as it was at 12, you would live for hundreds of years. But what about your mind? What if it stayed locked at 12? Club Penguin offers that deeply trippy experience.&nbsp; </p>
<p>The first thing you notice is that everyone is really dressed up. When you click on another penguin, their &quot;Player Card&quot; appears. This shows all of the pins, hats, props, and accessories that the penguin has acquired by completing various missions and shopping at various stores. The net result is that a lot of penguins end up looking like Elton John. (As Emily Yoffe <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2173912">points out</a>, you must have a paid subscription to Club Penguin to properly outfit your penguin.)<strong></strong>Many initial penguin-to-penguin comments are sartorial in nature, such as &quot;Where did you get that hat?&quot; or &quot;Nice outfit.&quot; A common opener, though, is the one that the pink penguin directed my way: &quot;boy or girl?&quot; An enterprising penguin tried this variation: &quot;All girls in the room come to me!&quot; The emphatic &quot;WHO WANTS TO BE A COUPLE?&quot; is also popular. </p>
<p>On occasion, couplehood is rejected, and one penguin will shout &quot;STOP FOLLOWING ME!&quot; or the more drastic &quot;I WILL REPORT YOU!!!&quot; (All of the penguin comments appear as nearby text boxes, like a comic book.) If couplehood is established, penguins will &quot;friend&quot; each other. Next, two or three heart emoticons may be exchanged, and one penguin may invite the other back to their igloo. That's not what it sounds like. Going to someone's igloo usually means admiring how they've decorated it with three flatscreen TVs, an aquarium, and a drum set. You might do a little dancing to the booming rock soundtrack (penguins can acquire special dance moves) and then go your separate ways. After all, there are constant parties to attend.</p>
<p>Club Penguin stands out from its peers because it's a social networking site that girls seem to like. My limited experience confirms that. Remember that girl who marched across the playground, grabbed a younger boy's hand, and made him be her pet? In this virtual world, you can witness a few hundred of them competing against each other. As I watched a penguin walk up to five other penguins and send five heart emoticons in the span of six minutes, I felt an inward, vestigial shudder of my sixth-grade self. The <a href="http://power4.wordpress.com/2007/02/01/club-penguin-waddle-around-and-criticize-penguins/">Club Penguin blogs</a> tell stories of penguins who flew close to the sun: They acquired so many friends that jealous players stole their passwords, then misbehaved in such a way as to get the popular penguin banned from the site. </p>
<p>Club Penguin may be heavily monitored, but, similar to school, messing with the authority figures is part of the fun. Getting banned is fairly easy. Just type a curse word, and you're out. This self-destructive penguin managed to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4SvKDIhnxc&amp;mode=related&amp;search=">get banned in 30 seconds</a>. Club Penguin regulars seem to enjoy their outlaw status, posting <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mEJ1SmiX5uo">videos</a> on YouTube of how they got the boot. Better yet are the tribute videos to banned penguins. This <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUA4w1WHuUA">one</a> uses the Puffy Combs ode to Biggie Smalls, &quot;I'll Be Missing You,&quot; as a soundtrack. </p>
<p>The Club Penguin phenomenon is propelled by more than just playground romance and little acts of rebellion. The people who run the site (which is based in British Columbia) are excellent hosts. They've created a world of characters, including Rockhopper, a Jesus-like figure who shows up every few months with new toys and special pins. (It's a mark of distinction to have actually met Rockhopper.) They also throw special parties and continually introduce new items and games. My few weeks in Club Penguin are a mere blip compared to most penguins' in-world time. After 30 days of good behavior, I could have become a &quot;Secret Agent&quot; and gotten access to special room. The longer you play, the further you get sucked in.</p>
<p>Eventually, all the aggressive cuddling and the invitations to the disco got to me. When I wasn't sled racing, I started hanging out on the iceberg, a spot in the middle of the ocean that attracted loners. Penguins would show up, walk to the edge, and then stare out at the water. Sometimes another penguin would ask, &quot;What's wrong?&quot; but often it was quiet. I took to lobbing snowballs in the same place over and over again. On one occasion, I started typing lines from Coleridge's <em>The Rime of the Ancient Mariner</em>—&quot;Alone on a wide sea!&quot;—and another penguin corrected my quote: &quot;Alone on a wide, wide sea.&quot; I'm guessing she wasn't 12. </p>
<p>The iceberg is the site of Club Penguin's most resilient urban legend: If enough penguins gather on one side of the iceberg, it will tip. (Here's a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=alXPMfSn-DQ&amp;mode=related&amp;search=">popular video</a> of an attempt.) The iceberg has never tipped, yet the idea will not die. If you hang around for a bit, a penguin might show up and start drilling, or a penguin would appear and shout, &quot;TIP THE ICEBERG,&quot; and start corralling everyone to one side. One tipping theory held that all penguins on the iceberg had to be the same color, leading to some incidents of colorism: &quot;Get out of here blue!&quot; A legend like this is a sign of a healthy game. Players are so invested in trying to figure out how the world works that they go beyond what the designers have intended.</p>
<p>This summer, when Disney bought Club Penguin for $700 million, there was a lot of hand-wringing about the time our kids spend online. In my few weeks there, Club Penguin surprised me in how well it approximated a middle-school playground, with the daredevils, the flirts, the boys obsessed with sports and games, the girls in a circle. (A sign-off that I thought I would never see online: &quot;gtg, cheerleading.&quot;) My guess is that Club Penguin complements these kids' real lives, and it's slightly hypocritical to tell them to turn off the computer and go play kick the can. Looking around my workplace, I see a lot of adults spending their entire day flirting/working/planning on instant messaging. Welcome to the club, kids.</p>Fri, 14 Sep 2007 11:38:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/09/ice_ice_baby.htmlMichael Agger2007-09-14T11:38:00ZMy few weeks in Club Penguin, a social networking site for middle-schoolers.TechnologyAn &quot;adult&quot; joins Club Penguin.2173910Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2173910falsefalsefalseAn "adult" joins Club Penguin.An "adult" joins Club Penguin.Hanging out in&nbsp;Club PenguinWikipedia Unmaskedhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/08/wikipedia_unmasked.html
<p> Wikipedia seems benign and geeky, so eager to share its awkwardly written knowledge. Let us tell you about <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atari_2600">Atari 2600</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Impressionism">Impressionism</a>, and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orcs">orcs</a>! The nerd orientation, however, distracts from what the site has become: an information battleground. Type &quot;Exxon&quot; into Google and the first two hits are official Exxon sites; the third is the company's Wikipedia entry. Wikipedia is the fourth hit for &quot;Philip Morris,&quot; the third for &quot;Starbucks,&quot; the fifth for &quot;New York Times.&quot; The Wikipedia page has become a public face for corporations, and they have an incentive to polish and scrub their entries.</p>
<p>Enter <a href="http://virgil.gr/">Virgil Griffith</a>, a self-described &quot;disruptive technologist&quot; and future CalTech graduate student. After reading about members of Congress who altered their Wikipedia entries, Griffith thought up a clever stink bomb. Wikipedia pages can be edited anonymously, but the anonymity is not total. When a computer connects to the Internet, it's assigned an IP address. (Click <a href="http://whatismyipaddress.com/">here</a> to discover yours.) This address can change each time you connect, but organizations typically have a defined range of IP addresses. When an edit is made to a Wikipedia page, the IP address that made the change is recorded. What Griffith did was take the 34,417,493 anonymous edits added between February 2004 and August 2007 and correlate them with the IP addresses of hedge funds, law firms, media companies, the CIA, and the rest of us. He dubbed the result <a href="http://wikiscanner.virgil.gr/">Wikiscanner</a>, and launched it two weeks ago.</p>
<p>Disruption occurred. The site lit up the <a href="http://www.boingboing.net/2007/08/14/disney_employee_whit.html">Boing-Boing</a>-osphere, <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/08/19/technology/19wikipedia.html?_r=1&amp;ei=5087%0A&amp;em=&amp;en=465802ab6182557a&amp;ex=1187582400&amp;pagewanted=all&amp;oref=slogin">a story about corporate edits</a> made the cover of the <em>New York Times</em>, and—what fellow hackers seemed most impressed by—Stephen Colbert used Wikiscanner as the centerpiece of a <a href="http://www.comedycentral.com/motherload/player.jhtml?ml_video=91912&amp;ml_collection=&amp;ml_gateway=&amp;ml_gateway_id=&amp;ml_comedian=&amp;ml_runtime=&amp;ml_context=show&amp;ml_origin_url=%2Fmotherload%2Findex.jhtml%3Fml_video%3D91912&amp;ml_playlist=&amp;lnk=&amp;is_large=true">Word of the Day monologue</a> on <em>The Colbert Report</em>. The <a href="http://blog.wired.com/27bstroke6/2007/08/vote-on-the-top.html">Threat Level</a> blog at <em>Wired</em> took the lead in gathering the most egregious edits, a dragnet that rounded up the usual suspects. A Scientology IP <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&amp;oldid=35859127">added a link to the Kurt Cobain page</a> that suggests the singer's childhood Ritalin prescription led him to suicide. An Exxon IP <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Exxon_Valdez_oil_spill&amp;diff=next&amp;oldid=8931331">cleaned up the section on the effects of the Valdez oil spill</a>, cheerfully noting &quot;six of the largest salmon harvests in history were recorded in the decade immediately following the spill.&quot; A Philip Morris IP deleted this sentence from a history paragraph of the &quot;<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&amp;oldid=10301205">Marlboro (cigarette)</a>&quot; page: &quot;It emerged as the number one youth-initiation brand.&quot;</p>
<p>While these edits are embarrassing, they are not exactly smoking guns. Just because someone with a Scientology-associated IP edited the Kurt Cobain entry, it doesn't mean a Scientology employee made the change. Here is how Griffith <a href="http://virgil.gr/31.html">explains it</a>: &quot;Technically, we don't know if it came from an agent of that company. However, we do know that edit came from someone with access to their network. If the edit occurred during working hours, then we can reasonably assume that the person is either an employee of that company or a guest that was allowed access to their network.&quot; Even so, it makes sense to tread lightly with accusations. For example, a lot of people create and update their own Wikipedia pages—for ego, for networking, for the hell of it. When I did <a href="http://wikiscanner.virgil.gr/f.php?ip2=12.47.123.0-255&amp;ip6=12.160.48.0-63&amp;ip25=12.39.215.192-255&amp;ip35=63.210.58.0-255">a wikiscan of the <em>Washington Post</em> IP range</a>, I turned up a change to my colleague Jack Shafer's page. The sentence: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>He is perhaps best known for his obituary for Walter Annenberg, entitled &quot;Citizen Annenberg - So long you rotten bastard&quot;, a fine example of early twenty-first century American poison pen obituary writing.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>had been <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&amp;oldid=77248775">amended</a> to:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>He is perhaps best known for his critical obituary of Walter Annenberg, entitled &quot;Citizen Annenberg - So long you rotten bastard&quot;.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>It would be easy to assume that this is an example of Wikiscanner capturing Jack's modesty in action. But when I asked him if he made the change, he pleaded not guilty. He also pointed out that the page has his alma mater wrong. </p>
<p>It's not news that Wikipedia is occasionally incorrect. It's also not a surprise that tobacco companies, the Mormon Church, and Scientology are altering pages to promote their products and worldviews. More interesting are the small fry who were also caught in the Wikiscanner net. Someone with a <em>New York Times</em> IP made a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&amp;oldid=15725782">crucial edit</a> to the Condoleezza Rice page, altering &quot;pianist&quot; to &quot;penis.&quot; A Greenpeace IP <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&amp;oldid=125604131">sniped</a> at Ted Nugent (the Nuge is a prominent pro-hunting spokesman) by claiming that he once had a 9-year-old Hawaiian girlfriend.&nbsp;A Republican Party IP <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Harry_Potter&amp;diff=prev&amp;oldid=19338858">ruined the sixth Harry Potter</a> by blanking the entire entry and adding a spoiler.</p>
<p>For the past week, I've been running various large law firms, banks, and consulting groups through Wikiscanner. While I haven't uncovered any great gotchas, I have noticed a few trends. First, corporate America shows an unparalleled creativity when it comes to describing erotic activity. (I will never think of milkshakes the same way again.) Second, way too many of you are adding yourself to Wikipedia as &quot;Notable Alumni&quot; of your school or as a &quot;Person&quot; from your hometown. Third, most every investment bank seems to have some British guy who's obsessed with football and vandalizes the Arsenal page. Fourth, people who went to Yale cannot resist editing their Secret Society page. Fifth, there's still a lot of love out there for Larry Bird. And, memo to everyone: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&amp;oldid=63000469">Adding your buddy's name</a> &nbsp;to the entry about &quot;Oral Sex&quot; is not original. </p>
<p>Wikipedia vandalism is as old as Wikipedia itself. The Wikipedians have a whole section devoted to the most inspired damage, called &quot;<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Bad_Jokes_and_Other_Deleted_Nonsense">Bad Jokes and Other Deleted Nonsense</a>.&quot; I especially liked the archive of hoax pages, including the justly celebrated <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/User:Hanger65/Upper_Peninsula_War">Upper Peninsula War</a>, which details (complete with maps and historical photos) a skirmish over the Michigan's Upper Peninsula between Canadians and Americans during the Spring of 1843. But even a hoax as convincing as this one lasted only two weeks before being found out. Wikiscanner, despite its litany of mischief, points to the success of Wikipedia. The egotistical edits, slurs, and blatant puffery eventually get re-edited and fixed by the community. </p>
<p>As I scanned away, I found devoted Wikipedians who corrected grammar, argued finer points of historical incidents, and updated entries relating to their catholic interests: Jacques Lacan, steampunk, the Rabbit tetralogy, cannabis, the Empire State Building, weather balloons. So, that's the image I'm left with after two weeks of Wikiscanner: a thousand <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cliff_Clavin">Cliff Clavins</a>, anonymously sculpting the knowledge of Wikipedia during their working hours. No doubt there are subtle Wikipedia vandalism and public-relations black ops waiting to be discovered, but, for the moment, the open-source encyclopedia seems to be holding the fort against the forces of idiocy and spin.</p>
<p>Bonus celebrity edit: A Dreamworks IP <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Seth_Rogen&amp;diff=next&amp;oldid=59525764">gives Seth Rogen</a> an adopted Laotian child named Pingpong Applesauce Rogen.</p>Fri, 24 Aug 2007 20:35:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/08/wikipedia_unmasked.htmlMichael Agger2007-08-24T20:35:00ZA new Web site reveals the sneak attacks and ego-fluffing of your friends and co-workers.TechnologyA new Web site unmasks Wikipedia's vandals.2172703Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2172703falsefalsefalseA new Web site unmasks Wikipedia's vandals.A new Web site unmasks Wikipedia's vandals.Virgil GriffithHacking Starbuckshttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/08/hacking_starbucks.html
<p> Perhaps you've noticed: The Internet has an obsession with Starbucks. Maybe it's because the two have grown up together. In 1995, Starbucks had just launched its master plan to become &quot;a third place for people to congregate beyond work or the home,&quot; while the Web had a lot of gray pages with text and &quot;hyperlinks.&quot; Now, the coffee chain has become the new McDonald's (44 million customers a week), and the Web has become a 24-hour global exercise in collective intelligence gathering. Gourmet coffee culture and Internet culture have fed off each other, and Starbucks in particular has become a punching bag for the indie spirit that pervades the Web. So I wanted to discover who has the upper hand: Does Starbucks dominate us with its convenient locations and potent caffeine, or do we, thanks to the Web, ultimately call the shots?</p>
<p>Exhibit A in the online cheekiness and wariness toward Starbucks is an old monument: the <a href="http://www.buttafly.com/starbucks/index.php">Starbucks Oracle</a>, which went online in 2002. You enter a drink, the oracle spits out a profile. Here's the response to my regular order, a tall coffee: </p>
<blockquote>
<p><strong>Personality type: </strong>Lame</p>
<p>You're a simple person with modest tastes and a reasonable lifestyle. In other words, you're boring. Going to Starbucks makes you feel sophisticated; you'd like to be snooty and order an espresso but aren't sure if you're ready for that level of excitement.&nbsp;...&nbsp;Everyone who thinks <em>America's Funniest Home Videos</em> is a great show drinks tall coffee.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Sadly accurate. Then I entered Vin Diesel's drink order: decaf triple nonfat espresso.</p>
<blockquote>
<p><strong>Personality type: </strong>Freak</p>
<p>No person of sound mind would go to an EXPENSIVE COFFEE SHOP to get a drink WITHOUT CAFFEINE. Your hobbies include going to ski resorts in the summer and flushing $5 bills down the toilet. You are a menace to society.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>How do I know Vin's drink order? Why, <a href="http://starbucksgossip.typepad.com/">Starbucks Gossip</a>, of course. The blog is run by Jim Romenesko, who also runs the <a href="http://www.poynter.org/column.asp?id=45">popular journalism blog</a> that bears his name. Starbucks Gossip has the tagline &quot;Monitoring America's favorite drug dealer,&quot; and it's the Alexandria of Starbucks knowledge, with both baristas and customers frequenting the message boards. Every so often, Romenesko will ask Starbucks employees to weigh in on <a href="http://starbucksgossip.typepad.com/_/2007/04/its_time_to_ask.html">what celebrities have been in their stores</a>. I'll leave you to pull out your favorite <em>US Weekly</em> tidbits, but this entry from &quot;Brooklyn Barista&quot; deserves special mention:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Nicole Kidman would get a grande cup of just nonfat milk foam. Yeah...just foam. She would eat it with a spoon. Hugh Jackman gets grande soy cappuccinos. Toby [sic] Maguire gets a doppio and he kinda assembles the drink himself at the bar with some stuff that he carries around in his pocket. He's actually pretty creepy.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Based on this evidence, it would seem that Spider-Man has stepped into the extra hot center of the &quot;ghetto latte&quot; debate. The e-mail that started it all had been languishing in Romenekso's inbox until a slow day in September of 2006:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Is it fair/right for a customer to order what we, at my store, call a &quot;ghetto-latte&quot;? </p>
<p>The &quot;ghetto-latte&quot; is ordering any size Iced Americano, with no water and half ice (This lady's drink is an Iced Venti, no water, half ice, Americano). She then takes the drink and goes to the condiments bar and adds her own half and half.<br /><br />She and her boy toy came in the other day and both ordered a Venti and Grande ghetto-latte. We just happened to not have the half and half out at the condiment bar. When she ordered the drink, I then immediately said, &quot;and ma'am what kind of dairy would you like?&quot; She then said, &quot;Oh I'll add it myself thank you.&quot; But I had to let her know we didn't have any out at the very moment. She asked for half and half of course.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>What followed were hundreds of comments, pro and con; an op-ed in the <em>Seattle Times</em>; an article in the<em> New York Times</em>; and so on. Is the <em>ghetto latte</em> racist? (The more P.C. might call it a bootleg latte.) Is it stealing? Or sticking it to the man? Are employees obliged to tirelessly refill the half-and-half, in order to observe the Starbucks mandate of &quot;Legendary Service&quot;? The debate demonstrates why Starbucks is such a magnet for invective: It's a perfect target for our anti-corporate righteousness, because it's something we all share. Douglas Coupland made the point long ago in <em>Generation X</em>: that the mockery and analysis of corporate sameness is an activity that can unite us. </p>
<p>The ghetto latte joins a pantheon of hallowed Starbucks hacks. Tim Harford of <strong><em>Slate</em></strong> contributed a classic to the genre, &quot;<a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2133754/">Starbucks Economics: Solving the Mystery of the Short Cappuccino</a>,&quot; where he revealed that the best-tasting cappuccino, the short cappuccino, is not on the menu. When Starbucks introduced its <a href="http://www.starbucks.com/retail/locator/default.aspx">store locator</a>, someone devised an effective <a href="http://www.delocator.net/">delocator</a>, which directs you toward independent cafes. The site <a href="http://www.consumerist.com/">Consumerist</a> recently explained how to get a <a href="http://consumerist.com/consumer/coffee/order-a-starbucks-tazo-chai-latte-for-half-price-286804.php">Tazo Chai Latte at half the price</a>. </p>
<p>And then there are the more high-concept hacks. In 2006, digital media artist Cory Arcangel computed the Starbucks center of gravity—i.e., &quot;the exact place you can stand in Manhattan and be closest to <strong>ALL</strong> Starbucks&quot;—to be somewhere around Fifth Avenue and 39<sup>th</sup> Street. This summer, comedian Mark Malkoff visited all 171 Starbucks outlets in Manhattan in one day and made a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CwYxuV2dVzw">funny video</a> out of it. (Key detail: At one point, he has to bribe a barista $80 for a piece of pound cake.) The earnest <a href="http://www.starbuckseverywhere.net/">Winter</a> deserves mention here, too—he's a one-named lad determined to visit every Starbucks in the world.</p>
<p>Romenesko, reached on the phone at an independent coffee shop in Evanston, Ill., speculates that some of the Starbucks stunts are fueled by dreams of becoming the next <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2004/03/02/48hours/main603484.shtml">Jared Fogle</a>, the guy who lost weight by eating exclusively at Subway and went on to become a pitchman for the chain. My theory is that the stunts testify to the totality of Starbucks: It's become a fixture, a sort of cultural Mount Rushmore that's found throughout movies (coming soon: Tom Hanks in <em> <a href="http://www.variety.com/article/VR1117940450.html?categoryid=13&amp;cs=1&amp;nid=2586">How Starbucks Saved My Life</a></em>), sitcoms (see this <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2BaA49v3z9I">viral <em>Curb Your Enthusiasm </em>clip</a>), and popular culture. All Starbucks jokes, attacks, and references merely swell the black hole of Starbucks. </p>
<p>The store also seems to engender grandiose statements like that one. Ron Rosenbaum <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2172217/">put&nbsp;academic Stanley Fish through the blender</a> on <strong><em>Slate</em></strong><em></em>for an egregious example of coffee-shop extrapolation. But lots of sharp, egghead analysis of the store can be found on the Web. The best comes from the so-called Professor Latte at Temple University: a man named Bryant Simon who's working on a book that promises to be the definitive American Studies take on Starbucks. In an <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fxpfx8W8C20">18-minute lecture on YouTube</a>, Simon breaks down the Starbucks appeal into three categories: functional (caffeine is addictive), emotional (Starbucks is self-gifting), and the &quot;expressive&quot; category. We buy Starbucks to show others that we are &quot;someone who can afford luxury.&quot; Simon also has a great take on the oft-mocked &quot;half-decaf no whip&quot; language. The Starbucks lingo capitalizes on an America filled with people who are &quot;desperate for belonging,&quot; he says, and Starbucks is in the business of creating a community of belonging. That's why the baristas ask us for our names, and also why we should question that small swell of pride we feel when we correctly order our venti soy no water <em>20 pump</em> chai.</p>
<p>True: That drink was actually purchased and consumed in a Starbucks. The baristas do keep track of weird orders, and sometimes they write about the most obscene ones on the <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/baristas">LiveJournal Barista's community</a>:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>the gross drink of the night at my store: a triple grande pomegrante fruit juice frap. ew ew ewww. the guy drank it like it was the best thing on earth.&nbsp;there was a little left over in the blender so my coworker and i tried it and i couldn't even swallow it - it was so acidic it burned my mouth. ew.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The journal entries are what you would expect: venting about annoying customers, venting about psychotic managers, wondering if the new breakfast sandwiches are being rolled out in Ohio, and discussion of&nbsp;performance reviews in bureaucratic language (&quot;my spectacular performance was what HELD ME BACK from SS, because she didn't want to lose my use to the shift team&quot;). Reading several hundred entries feels like working at a Starbucks for a day. What surprised me was the lack of cynicism about the place. Many of the baristas do think of themselves as &quot;partners&quot; (as employees are called) and speak with pride of their stores. They tend to defend Starbucks against the legions of Starbucks-haters out there. They also seem to enjoy the benefits of the almost medieval guild that they belong to, which allows them to move between cities with ease and fall back on their espresso skills if a new job doesn't pan out. </p>
<p>So, what did I learn after all my browsing into various Starbucks subcultures? To paraphrase an idea of professor Simon, the chain is the matrix of coffee. You either define yourself as part of the Starbucks community or as someone &quot;who doesn't do Starbucks.&quot; But, repeatedly, the key to all-around Starbucks happiness turned out to be simple: If you do buy coffee there, leave a tip.</p>Wed, 15 Aug 2007 23:02:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/08/hacking_starbucks.htmlMichael Agger2007-08-15T23:02:00ZWhere to learn about the ghetto latte, barista gossip, and Nicole Kidman's usual.TechnologyHow to hack Starbucks.2172288Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2172288falsefalsefalseHow to hack Starbucks.How to hack Starbucks.Starbucks coffeeGoogle Spyhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/06/google_spy.html
<p> As Google grows older, it's becoming that kid who brings an M-80 to the neighborhood barbecue. While everyone else is goofing off with sparklers, Google blows up a trash can and freaks out the entire block. The latest explosion is <a href="http://maps.google.com/help/maps/streetview/">Google Street View</a>. The free-sushi-eating Googleheads dreamed up the idea to send a <a href="http://www.mcs.csueastbay.edu/~tebo/GoogleStreetViewVan/">camera-equipped van</a> to take 360-degree shots around the streets of San Francisco, Las Vegas, New York, Denver, and Miami. Cool, right? Then the service launched last Tuesday, and Mary Kalin-Casey discovered that she could <a href="http://www.google.com/maps?q=404+Bellevue+Ave,+Oakland,+CA+94610,+USA&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;ll=37.814853,-122.251825&amp;spn=0.009052,0.019999&amp;z=16&amp;om=0&amp;layer=c&amp;cbll=37.810337,-122.252508&amp;cbp=1,275.126906023915,0.351336867187314,3">see her cat Monty</a> in the window of her apartment. If you zoom in, you can tell that Monty is a tabby.</p>
<p>Kalin-Casey <a href="http://www.boingboing.net/2007/05/30/google_maps_is_spyin.html">expressed her privacy concerns</a> to the site BoingBoing, and she was joined by a gaggle of commenters who felt that Google had crossed a line by photographing people's homes, cars, and garbage cans. The race was on to find the most alarming and actionable image. Promising candidates included the <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&amp;hl=en&amp;q=669+Ofarrell&amp;sll=37.647403,-122.248993&amp;sspn=0.335446,0.6427&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;ll=37.788327,-122.415054&amp;spn=0.005231,0.010042&amp;z=17&amp;om=1&amp;layer=c&amp;cbll=37.785471,-122.415673&amp;cbp=1,201.97392100834,0.600450422149201,3">two men entering a cannabis club</a> in San Francisco, the <a href="http://www.google.com/maps?f=q&amp;hl=en&amp;q=brooklyn+battery+tunnel&amp;sll=40.703627,-74.014335&amp;sspn=0.006962,0.022101&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;ll=40.709922,-74.014893&amp;spn=0.027846,0.060253&amp;z=14&amp;om=0&amp;layer=c&amp;cbll=40.695699,-74.013291&amp;cbp=1,360,0.5,0">interior shot of the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel</a> (a no-no since 9/11), and the <a href="http://www.google.com/maps?q=970+OFarrell+St,+San+Francisco,+CA+94109,+USA&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;ll=37.7889,-122.417489&amp;spn=0.006774,0.013561&amp;z=17&amp;om=0&amp;layer=c&amp;cbll=37.785489,-122.417975&amp;cbp=2,438.82277544807,0.667036460163099,2">guy standing outside a strip joint</a>. Google responded with an unassailable position: &quot;Street View only features imagery taken on public property and is not real time. This imagery is no different from what any person can readily capture or see walking down the street.&quot; Google provides a page to report images that should be removed. The company also worked with domestic-violence shelters to keep those places private. </p>
<p>What Street View demonstrates is the magnifying effect of technology, especially Google technology. People drive by the Stanford campus every day and see attractive co-eds searching for the optimum tanning angle. But when those <a href="http://www.google.com/maps?q=692+Escondido+Rd,+Stanford,+CA+94305,+USA&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;ll=37.428882,-122.160308&amp;spn=0.009099,0.019999&amp;z=16&amp;om=0&amp;layer=c&amp;cbll=37.424353,-122.16099&amp;cbp=1,386.647144575211,0.610222133629419,3">same co-eds are captured by the Google camera</a>, the men of the Web go a little crazy and 100 links to the &quot;Girls of Escondido Road&quot; bloom. Or, let's say you are driving down the road and see a shirtless dude with a backward baseball cap urinating by the speed-limit sign. Probably not the most enjoyable sight in the world. Through the magic of Google, though, <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&amp;hl=en&amp;q=San+Bruno,+California,+United+States&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;ll=37.625041,-122.482667&amp;spn=0.022331,0.038109&amp;z=15&amp;om=1&amp;layer=c&amp;cbll=37.617952,-122.485275&amp;cbp=1,228.978817071945,0.56251897101312,3/">a star is born</a>. (Update: The image has been taken down, but can be seen <a href="http://consumerist.com/consumer/privacy/google-streets-view-project-manager-speaks-about-privacy-concerns-266482.php">here</a>.) No naked women standing in windows have been uncovered yet, despite some serious effort.</p>
<p>Street View reveals its creepy potential most in the Bay Area and environs, where the images are of a higher resolution than the other cities. Compare this <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&amp;hl=en&amp;q=870+Market+St,+San+Francisco,+CA+94111&amp;sll=37.804783,-122.400613&amp;sspn=0.009545,0.017338&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;om=0&amp;layer=c&amp;cbll=37.78445,-122.407446&amp;cbp=1,357.213853057174,0.470730579782207,0&amp;ll=37.788963,-122.406149&amp;spn=0.009055,">wide shot</a> and this <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&amp;hl=en&amp;q=870+Market+St,+San+Francisco,+CA+94111&amp;sll=37.804783,-122.400613&amp;sspn=0.009545,0.017338&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;om=0&amp;layer=c&amp;cbll=37.78445,-122.407446&amp;cbp=1,356.226037322899,0.547580541653393,3&amp;ll=37.788963,-122.406149&amp;spn=0.009055,">close-up</a> on Market Street in San Francisco, to this <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&amp;hl=en&amp;q=200+W+30th+St,+New+York,+NY+1000&amp;sll=40.754523,-73.99689&amp;sspn=0.00868,0.019999&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;ll=40.754946,-73.996675&amp;spn=0.00868,0.019999&amp;z=16&amp;om=0&amp;layer=c&amp;cbll=40.750614,-73.997551&amp;cbp=1,195.575643086817,0.5,0">wide shot</a> and this <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&amp;hl=en&amp;q=200+W+30th+St,+New+York,+NY+1000&amp;sll=40.754523,-73.99689&amp;sspn=0.00868,0.019999&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;om=0&amp;layer=c&amp;cbll=40.750614,-73.997551&amp;cbp=1,185.025723472669,0.727295016077171,2&amp;ll=40.754946,-73.996675&amp;spn=0.00868,0.019999&amp;z=">close-up</a> in New York City. The woman in the orange shirt in New York, by the way, is <strong><em>Slate</em></strong> art director Vivian Selbo, who happened to be talking to some random stranger in Army fatigues when the Google van passed by. While many people have found their cars on Street View, Viv is one of the few to have found herself. </p>
<p>I could spend all day reeling off the hijinks—the <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=l&amp;hl=en&amp;q=museum&amp;near=San+Francisco,+California,+United+States&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;view=map&amp;om=1&amp;layer=c&amp;cbll=37.777452,-122.504927&amp;cbp=1,289.875024308419,0.628713401659621,3&amp;ll=37.784554,-122.500091&amp;spn=0.023674,0.040169&amp;z=15">unfortunate thong woman</a> (which has now been <a href="http://mashable.com/2007/06/03/street-view-maps-these-panties-have-been-removed-due-to-a-privacy-violation/">taken down</a>), <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&amp;hl=en&amp;q=Palo+Alto,+CA&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;ll=37.428047,-122.083125&amp;spn=0.014211,0.036757&amp;z=16&amp;om=1&amp;layer=c&amp;cbll=37.420894,-122.084098&amp;cbp=2,360,0.494503672343187,0">the Google employees who knew the van was coming</a>, <a href="http://www.google.com/maps?f=q&amp;hl=en&amp;q=358+W+San+Carlos+St,+san+jose,+ca&amp;sll=37.328886,-121.892967&amp;sspn=0.006851,0.013325&amp;layer=tc&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;om=0&amp;cbll=37.330351,-121.889659&amp;cbp=1,343.049358983716,0.643007048896732,3&amp;ll=37.336146,-121.888504&amp;spn=0.011789,0.02">the nose-picker</a>, <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&amp;hl=en&amp;q=new+york&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;om=1&amp;layer=c&amp;cbll=40.673835,-74.406761&amp;cbp=1,234.924811093247,0.61024115755627,1&amp;ll=40.69795,-74.405594&amp;spn=0.099562,0.150032&amp;z=13">E.T.</a>—but let's stop and think about the future for a moment. Unlike some other dubious Google projects (ahem, <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2156386/">patents</a>), Street View will be of genuine value to the scholar who, 20 years from now, wants to study, say, the ratio of Priuses to SUVs in Palo Alto driveways, or <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&amp;hl=en&amp;q=22nd+and+Mission,+SF&amp;sll=37.0625,-95.677068&amp;sspn=44.339735,67.148438&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;om=0&amp;layer=c&amp;cbll=37.413568,-122.08442&amp;cbp=1,362.34,0.500798313328121,0&amp;ll=37.417959,-122.083726&amp;spn=0.00864,0.019999&amp;z=16">variations in California ranch-house style</a>. It's also fairly great right now, as a way to scout out a neighborhood or to stroll through the Presidio during a lunch break. But the streets of America are not exactly … alive. Classic urban encounters such as <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&amp;hl=en&amp;q=22nd+and+Mission,+SF&amp;sll=37.0625,-95.677068&amp;sspn=44.339735,67.148438&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;om=0&amp;layer=c&amp;cbll=37.761161,-122.425954&amp;cbp=1,401.338192417353,0.547257185451314,1&amp;ll=37.763319,-122.425472&amp;spn=0.007345,0.009774&amp;z=17">man-ogles-woman</a> are difficult to find, while you can spend entire afternoons strolling down sunny, quiet suburban streets that could pass for outtakes from a Hopper painting.</p>
<p>Google will certainly take Street View to the next level of sophistication, and I have a few suggestions. Resist the temptation to use live cameras (that will really make the privacy folks go insane). Take this international. I want to walk through the favelas of Rio from the safety of my laptop. I want to examine the ruins of Cherynobyl without ruining my kidneys. I want to glimpse shami kabob in the markets of Kabul. I want to see a shirtless guy peeing in Tehran.</p>Fri, 08 Jun 2007 20:02:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/06/google_spy.htmlMichael Agger2007-06-08T20:02:00ZZooming in on neighbors, nose-pickers, and sunbathers with Street View.TechnologyGoogle spies on America.2168127Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2168127falsefalsefalseGoogle spies on America.Google spies on America.Google Street ViewCat Powerhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/05/cat_power.html
<p> <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2166369"></a> <strong><em>Click </em></strong> <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2166338/slideshow/2166369"><strong><em>here</em></strong></a><strong><em> to read a slide-show essay about lolcats.</em></strong></p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>Mon, 21 May 2007 11:31:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/05/cat_power.htmlMichael Agger2007-05-21T11:31:00ZYou cannot resist lolcats.TechnologyYou cannot resist lolcats.2166338Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2166338falsefalsefalseYou cannot resist lolcats.You cannot resist lolcats.The E-Mail Addicthttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/05/the_email_addict.html
<p> The Virginia Tech shooting drowned out what was, for many, the week's more personally disruptive event: On Tuesday, April 17, BlackBerrys in the Western Hemisphere ceased to function for several hours. Over on the tech site <a href="http://slashdot.org/">Slashdot</a>, someone cracked wise with a line from <em>Star Wars</em>, saying the failure was &quot;as though a million voices cried out and were suddenly silenced.&quot; A funny comment, but also strangely apt. Consider what Obi-Wan told Luke about the Force in 1977: &quot;The Force is what gives a Jedi his power. It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together.&quot; Now consider our feelings about e-mail circa 2007. It gives the manager control of his &quot;direct reports,&quot; it keeps the worker tuned to his desk, it's full of life-altering possibility: a job offer, a response from a cute co-worker, a winning eBay bid. On a micro level, the outage made people briefly confront their BlackBerry dependence. On a macro level, it spurred those questions consultants like to ask: Are we addicted to e-mail? Is it counterproductive?</p>
<p>Near the center of this conversation lies <a href="http://eganemailsolutions.com/">Marsha Egan</a>, a life coach and self-described &quot;corporate escapee.&quot; In February, she sent out a press release asking, &quot;Are you E-ddicted to your E-mail?&quot; The release went on to describe Egan's 12-step program for curing your &quot;e-mail e-ddiction.&quot; I e-mailed Egan to ask if we could discuss her program. She called me on the phone a few hours later. Because I prefer e-mail, I let the call go to voice mail. When I called her back, she explained that this was to be the 148<sup>th</sup> interview she had given on the subject. She had appeared on everything from Australian radio to the &quot;German equivalent of <em>Newsweek</em>.&quot; So, lesson No. 1: The media are addicted to e-mail and to discussing e-mail addiction.</p>
<p>I check my e-mail every seven minutes or so. Marsha Egan sets her e-mail program to check for new mail every 90 minutes. She calls e-mail &quot;the silent corporate cancer,&quot; and that's just the start of her metaphoric arsenal: &quot;It eats away at people's time, a minute at a time. I call it bleeding to death from a thousand pinpricks.&quot; Her calculation is as follows: &quot;It's commonly believed and understood that it takes about 4 minutes to recover from any interruption. If the computer dings at you and you look 30 times, that's 120 minutes of recovery time. That's the crisis.&quot; </p>
<p>The first step to health is admitting that you have a problem, and then turning off Microsoft Outlook's automatic send and receive. The second step is very steep: &quot;You must commit to emptying your Inbox every time you go in there.&quot; </p>
<p>Have you ever emptied your inbox? It's like hacking off a limb. With no e-mail to reply to, I feel a disorientating lightness. I am at loose ends and have no way to fill those little holes in the day. That's also part of the problem, according to Egan and her fellow productivity coaches. E-mail, which is innately reactive, has become the default method of &quot;working.&quot; The idea behind emptying your inbox is to convert all those e-mails into actions. You're allowed to deal with any mail that will take less than two minutes to answer. Otherwise, you should file your outstanding messages into folders such as &quot;Pending,&quot; &quot;Reply To,&quot; &quot;Archive,&quot; and &quot;YouTube Links&quot; and deal with them as a unit later, when you've mapped out your day and polished off those urgent <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TPS_report_(Office_Space)">TPS reports</a>. Egan notes that people have a tendency to simply open their inboxes and scroll up and down for several minutes, knocking off two or three messages so they feel better. She calls this inefficient process &quot;e-noodling.&quot; You get the e-idea yet? </p>
<p>If you want the rest of the 12 steps, you will have to send Marsha Egan $36. When she gives her tele-seminars, people immediately pipe up that their companies would never let them ignore e-mail, even for an hour. She responds that some companies have a &quot;toxic e-mail culture&quot; and that change needs to come from the top. As you might expect, she's working on a new book, <em>The E-Mail Pandemic, </em>which addresses this very issue and its international consequences. The next question the attendees ask is more difficult: &quot;How do I stop the e-mail from coming?&quot; </p>
<p>It never stops, unless you stop sending it. I've noticed that <a href="http://www-cs-faculty.stanford.edu/~knuth/email.html">people who give up e-mail</a> for good tend to have a wonderful device that aids them with all of their communication: a secretary. Timothy Ferriss, a young productivity guru who wrote a book called <em> <a href="http://www.fourhourworkweek.com/">The 4-Hour Workweek</a></em>, suggests that you send an auto-reply to every message telling correspondents when you check your e-mail. (He likes to check once a day, in the evenings.) There has also been a mini-thread of bloggers and heavy e-mail users who have declared <a href="http://valleywag.com/tech/trends/declaring-e+mail-bankruptcy-254608.php">e-mail bankruptcy</a>. They send out a note to everyone in their address book asking them to send fresh e-mails, as they do not intend to reply to any old, unanswered messages. </p>
<p>There's a ring of familiarity to all of this consternation about the &quot;e-mail problem.&quot; As you've heard many times, new technology is greeted with anxiety. First, we negotiate how to use it. When the telegraph debuted, books were written about proper telegraphing etiquette. (Initially it was considered impolite to accept an invitation by telegram, but that later changed.) David Shipley and Will Schwalbe's new book <em> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Send-Essential-Guide-Email-Office/dp/0307263649/ref=sr_1_1/002-5255465-2341663?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books&amp;qid=1178120540&amp;sr=1-1">Send: The Essential Guide to E-Mail for Office and Home</a></em> is the successor of books such as John Hill's <em>The Young Secretary's Guide</em> (1687), which taught English clerks how to write acceptable letters at a time when postal service became widespread and affordable. Once we've mastered the form, what was once a convenient marvel proliferates and can become a painful burden. As professor Thomas Augst succinctly put it in his <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Clerks-Tale-Young-Nineteenth-Century-America/dp/0226032205/ref=sr_1_2/104-7628057-5404703?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books&amp;qid=1178138605&amp;sr=8-2">study of 19<sup>th</sup>-century American clerks</a>: &quot;To receive a letter is to incur an emotional debt.&quot; Today, scholars talk of the &quot;<a href="http://www4.ncsu.edu/~sdicks/eng518/sampleprojectsfolder/The%20Phantom%20Machine.pdf">communication enslavement</a>&quot; that occurs when someone sends e-mail to someone else.</p>
<p>All of the guides for writing effective e-mail, the strategies for firewalling your attention, the scare stories about parents turning their children into BlackBerry orphans stop short of grasping the essential e-mail achievement. It has erased the boundary between work and life. That's why we don't want to give up our inboxes. Sure, we're miffed when we check e-mail on vacation and get dragged back into work mode, but we just wanted to see if our friend sent us the photos, or if our broker has any new listings to show us when we get back. Not checking e-mail doesn't simply mean checking out of work; it means checking out of your entire social network.</p>
<p>Many people who are addicted to e-mail are more correctly described as addicted to work. Lots of e-mail makes you feel important. E-mail addicts (like me) fear the empty inbox and, strangely, the potential freedom that e-mail provides. A BlackBerry can make you feel accountable at night, but it also lets you say, play golf, while still monitoring any situation that might come up. When business is conducted through e-mail, it shifts the responsibility of actually working off of the physical setting of the office and back onto you. That lack of structure, or the need to provide your own structure, can be uncomfortable. Still, you often find confident people who are immune to e-mail addiction. They just don't understand what the fuss is about. They check e-mail when they need to; they turn it off when they've got stuff to do. It's a tool that serves them. They use the Force.</p>Wed, 02 May 2007 22:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/05/the_email_addict.htmlMichael Agger2007-05-02T22:30:00ZStop using, start living.TechnologyAre you addicted to e-mail?2165452Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2165452falsefalsefalseAre you addicted to e-mail?Are you addicted to e-mail?im glad you are ok thoughhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/04/im_glad_you_are_ok_though.html
<p> As the shooting at Virginia Tech unfolded yesterday, the media and the curious descended on <a href="http://www.myspace.com/">MySpace</a> and <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/">LiveJournal</a>. The reporters were looking for scoops, the rest of us were rubbernecking. A few instant stars were uncovered, such as Bryce, a Virginia Tech student who wrote <a href="http://ntcoolfool.livejournal.com/102171.html">this entry</a> in his journal on Monday at 2 p.m.:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Tears run as the death count climbs.&nbsp; Currently 32 are dead. </p>
<p>I cannot begin to describe the pain that runs through me now.&nbsp; The anger, loss, and the unknown.</p>
<p>The only thing I do know is that a list awaits.&nbsp; A list in which may include a friend or several.&nbsp; A list of passion, dreams, aspirations, of life and hope-- suddenly gone. </p>
<p>Time has suspended. </p>
<p>I look at Foxnew's website to see pictures of the dead being carried out of Norris hall.&nbsp; I feel removed, like this isn't happening here right now.&nbsp; It is on the news someplace far away, and I can just turn off the TV to make it go away.</p>
<p>My friends could be dead.&nbsp; Tears continue. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>The first comment to the post reads: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>Hi This is Falice Chin from CBC Newsworld. We are looking for witnesses right now for live phone interviews. Please call me 403-521-6038 ASAP THANKS!</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And then someone sent this anonymous response to the response:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Please let us exploit your grief. ASAP THANKS!</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Sitting in his dorm room, Bryce experienced a new kind of 15 minutes: writing in what had yesterday been a near-private journal and had now become a soapbox to the world. He was willing to talk to the media. But other students were not—after their entries were discovered, they rapidly set their journals and MySpace pages to friends-only. </p>
<p>The livejournal entries were mostly by women. The boys seemed to dominate at <a href="http://www.fark.com/">Fark.com</a>, a site that posts strange and funny Internet stories and then opens them up to comment. Usually, it's an excellent place to waste time in class and try out <em>Maxim</em>-type jokes. Midmorning yesterday, this <a href="http://www.cbc.ca/cp/Oddities/070415/K041504AU.html">story from the CBC</a> was posted to the main page: &quot;Mammoth, meteorite or bezoar? Christie's offering all 3 in unusual auction. I've always wanted my own bezoar.&quot; It was followed by <a href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070416/ap_on_re_us/virginia_tech_shooting;_ylt=AmqDWL.d0WZcTYjjmE76swes0NUE">another story</a>: &quot;Shooting confirmed at Virginia Tech.&quot; The <a href="http://forums.fark.com/cgi/fark/comments.pl?IDLink=2742309">comments</a> start with a quip—&quot;wheres Marcus Vick?&quot; (Marcus Vick is the <a href="http://sports.espn.go.com/ncf/news/story?id=2285819">trouble-prone</a> former quarterback at Virginia Tech)—but it's soon clear that some of the &quot;Farkers&quot; themselves are near the scene. HellYeahHokie writes in a post dated 10:05 a.m.: &quot;Looks like McBryde is being cleared out.&quot;</p>
<p>The next six hours of Fark comments make for an <a href="http://forums.fark.com/cgi/fark/comments.pl?IDLink=2742309">amazing record.</a> At first, the Farkers don't know how many have been killed. People speculate that the shooter is a townie or one of the cadets on campus. At 10:52 a.m., HellYeahHokie chimes in to defend the cadets: &quot;I will give the cadets some props. While everyone was fleeing from buildings, they were there helping to keep things organized and assisting the police who were showing up from every police force within a 50 mile radius.&quot; The Farkers note both the moment when CNN increases the font size on its breaking-news headline and when the network dubs the incident a &quot;massacre.&quot; A lot of posts try to find the edge of humor in the situation. Some fail: &quot;Do they still give out all A's if your roommate dies during the semester?&quot; Some succeed: &quot;Thank you everyone at Colorado State for either being too drunk or too stoned to do this.&quot; The Farkers are also aware of the frantic, competitive Internet information-chase that follows sensational events: &quot;No one has links to the shooters myspace page yet? Dissapointing.&quot;</p>
<p>The Farkers find a site where they can listen to the police scanner, and they post e-mails and news stories when they hear or read them. They worry about the message board's inevitable descent into a gun-control flame war and warn about not overwhelming the Virginia Tech Web servers. Then, at 4:03 p.m., this IM session appears in a post:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>[15:38] a: i know 3 of the people that were killed so far....everything is just to unreal<br />15:38] b: wow man, i am sorry<br />[15:38] b: were they seniors<br />[15:38] b: what have u heard has happened<br />[15:38] a: They were grad students<br />[15:38] b: damn man, again i am sorry, my thoughts and prayers are for them and their families and friends<br />[15:38] a: yea me to<br />[15:38] a: well a guy in my design group for land development. (lee hixon is a grad student..) he lived<br />[15:38] a: he was in the room where the guy killed everyone<br />[15:38] a: the guy shot at him 4 times and missed<br />[15:39] a: he fell to the ground and played dead<br />[15:39] a: but he lived..<br />[15:39] a: he said some of the names to me who died...he said the whole class was killed except him and one other guy<br />[15:39] b: wow, what class was it?<br />[15:39] a: Graduate Class for Advanced Hydrology<br />[15:39] b: thats nuts man, i cant fathum what he was going through<br />[15:39] a: he is so shooken up<br />[15:39] a: when he called me, i thought he was joking<br />[15:39] a: he was so hysterical<br />[15:39] a: he said blood was everywhere and all over him<br />[15:39] a: he said bullet holes were all in the walls and desks...<br />[15:39] a: he said he thought he was dreaming<br />[15:39] a: he had bullets fly and miss him<br />[15:39] b: damn man, i dont know what to say, i just feel for everyone involed<br />[15:39] a: yea same here<br />[15:39] a: im glad you are ok though<br />[15:39] a: i just talked to eddie<br />[15:39] a: and he said him and walter are ok<br />[15:39] b: cool<br />[15:39] a: ok well im going to go for now...but i will talk to you later man...ill talk to you<br />later if i hear anything else<br />[15:39] b: cool, later man</p>
</blockquote>
<p>That's when HellYeahHokie realizes that he may know some people who were killed: &quot;I checked the guide, and sure enough Advanced Hydrology is taught in Norris 206 at 9:00 AM. It's taught by GV Lognathan, who I've had as a professor and who is one of the favorites in the department. The likelyhood that several of my friends were in that class is pretty good. God dammit.&quot; The adrenalized mood on the message board deflates. People send notes directed at HYH, wishing him well. Joke over.</p>
<p>The Fark message board was one of a few that named the shooter—a name that turned out to be wrong. At least one blog, <a href="http://askachinese.wordpress.com/">Ask a Chinese</a>, went out and grabbed this person's MySpace page. (The site's writers later apologized.) MySpace holds a central position in this drama. This morning, it was <a href="http://forums.fark.com/cgi/fark/comments.pl?IDLink=2744490">noted on Fark.com</a> that the shooter identified by police, Cho Seung-Hui, did not have a presence on MySpace—another sign of his outcast status. There's a two-fold disappoinment at this fact. For the angry, no way to leave a flaming message (or worse). For the media, it's as if his MySpace page would have held the key to his motive, as if the online life of college students is where they hide their true selves. (His <a href="http://newsbloggers.aol.com/2007/04/17/cho-seung-huis-plays/">plays</a>, apparently, have been found.) Meanwhile, the <a href="http://sayrumph.livejournal.com/216965.html">MySpace pages of the victims</a> remain online with their painful messages: &quot;DID U GET SHOT FUCKER???&quot; and &quot;MAXXXXX-please call us!!!&quot; But anyone who knows the people who died would say that their MySpace pages represent just a fraction of who they were. Now they are memorials, filling up with notes, custom graphics, and memories. </p>Tue, 17 Apr 2007 23:09:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/04/im_glad_you_are_ok_though.htmlMichael Agger2007-04-17T23:09:00ZHow students tracked the tragedy online.TechnologyHow students tracked the Virginia Tech shootings online.2164428Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2164428falsefalsefalseHow students tracked the Virginia Tech shootings online.How students tracked the Virginia Tech shootings online.What Are You Doing?http://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/04/what_are_you_doing.html
<p> Twitter is the newest assault on your attention span. Once you've signed in, the <a href="http://www.twitter.com/">Twitter site</a> immediately prompts you with a question in bold type: &quot;What are you doing?&quot; Below, there's a blinking cursor and a blank white space where you have 140 characters with which to answer. That's basically it. Here are some twitter messages, known as &quot;tweets,&quot; culled this morning:</p>
<p><strong>limburger2001</strong> watching csi, and preparing for our work meeting tomorrow at 8:30 a.m. Thank god for coffee ... </p>
<p><strong>jeremias </strong>listening to Curious George in the background while drinking terroir coffee whose headquarters happen to be 5 minutes away</p>
<p><strong>tiroriro</strong> Che! Me voy a cocinar </p>
<p><strong>nikomi</strong>となりの801ちゃん(本)で&quot;「そううけほん」でぐぐれ&quot;とか書いてるのに当の801ちゃんのblogがトップでヒットすんのは絶対罠だ</p>
<p><strong>Geewiz</strong> Just recovered from a night of playing WoW.</p>
<p>These messages are culled from Twitter's &quot;<a href="http://twitter.com/public_timeline">public timeline</a>.&quot; Most tweets are viewable by all. They join a stream of tweets from around the globe—a ticker tape of quotidian detail. The tweets you write are also sent to designated friends via text message, e-mail, or instant message. Finally, strangers can elect to &quot;follow&quot; you and receive your updates. According to tracking site <a href="http://www.twitterholic.com/">Twitterholic</a>, the <a href="http://www.twitterholic.com/top100/followers/">top 10 twitterers</a> have thousands of people following them—a literal cult of personality. <a href="http://twitter.com/springnet">Paul Terry Walhus</a>, a gray-haired Austin coffee-shop blogger who has 8,789 friends and 1,722 followers, is currently the most popular person on the site. His latest tweet: &quot;5:33 am cst L:78704 starting work week ... full plate today ... toast, mango yogurt and coffee w half and half.&quot;</p>
<p>The rise of Twitter goes against other productivity trends. The corporate world has seized upon the idea that e-mail and instant messaging can be a time sump. The ambitious are tuning out distraction while executives resolve to beat their addiction to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Breakout">Brick Breaker</a>. But that hasn't stopped Twitter. A lot of tweets are sent from work: &quot;Waiting for a meeting to start. Why is it so hard to be on time,&quot; &quot;Pouting. People aren't returning my emails, and I have post-annual-report-submission anxiety.&quot; And Twitter is not a mere procrastination tool. It acts as a mental escape hatch. When answering the Twitter prompt—&quot;What are you doing?&quot;—people have a way of checking in with their essential nonwork selves: &quot;thinking about fried pickles for lunch&quot; or &quot;daydreamng about a boy that i fancy and how i can snog him.&quot; It's the 21<sup>st</sup>-century equivalent of passing notes in class. </p>
<p>Twitter is also a Web 2.0 sensation that's hyped on all the blogs, which means it's a motley free-for-all environment: You have the <a href="http://twitter.com/bbc">BBC</a> sending out official news alerts and also some guy pretending to be <a href="http://twitter.com/darthvader">Darth Vader</a>. (Sample quote: &quot;Simba, I am your father!&quot;) <a href="http://twitter.com/johnedwards">John Edwards</a> jumped aboard early, and he thanked everyone for sending tweets about Elizabeth. Recently, his staff seems to have taken over: &quot;(from staff): Sen. Edwards is in Chapel Hill with his family.&quot; <a href="http://twitter.com/StephenColbert">Stephen Colbert</a> is halfheartedly gathering a flock in an attempt to overtake the popular Darth Vader, and his writers blithely mock the form: &quot;I've got truth fever ... seriously, I've been throwing up all day.&quot; There is also a fake <a href="http://twitter.com/Borat">Borat</a>, a fake <a href="http://www.twitter.com/homer">Homer Simpson</a>, and a fake <a href="http://www.twitter.com/Condi">Condi</a> (&quot;Stuck in traffic on Pennsylvania Ave and guess who pulls up next to me. Colin in his Avalanche! AWKWARD!&quot;). People are playing with Twitter like this is 1995, when you would send an e-mail just for the connective thrill.</p>
<p>The Willy Wonka of Twitterland is <a href="http://twitter.com/davetroy">Dave Troy</a>. He mashed-up Twitter with Google Maps to create <a href="http://www.twittervision.com/">Twittervision</a>. Open the URL and a world map appears on your screen. Little messages then pop up and disappear from their place of origin every second or so. The result is either a mesmerizing piece of desktop installation art or a banal text-based Jumbotron. Watch for a few minutes and you can track the ebb and flow of daily life around the world. Someone rolls out of bed in San Jose, while in London another twitterer chimes in with a simple &quot;Zzzzzzzzz.&quot; (Everyone seems to be keeping it fairly clean, i.e., no tweets like &quot;just had sex.&quot;) Often a conversation will bubble up, such as on a recent night when a cross-ocean debate occurred over the merits of Guitar Hero 2. In my time observing the site, I've identified one world constant: People love to twitter about coffee and tea. They also need more sleep. </p>
<p>Watching Twittervision is akin to sitting at a sidewalk cafe and letting a slightly nerdier version of the real world go by. Active twittering is getting up onstage for open-mic night. Ego-wise, it's both deflating and affirming. Do my friends really care what I am doing? Unlike open-mic nights, getting tweets from people is enjoyable. There is a pleasant sense of faint connection, as if you are standing silently next to them. It's also a quick shot of empathy: You imagine where they are and what they might be seeing. Because Twitter reaches into phones and computers or wherever a person might be, it's intimate, a friendly buzz in the pocket. I suspect this goodwill is mostly due to my uncluttered Twitter life: no spam, no work e-mail, no need to reply, and no ads. That last part will likely change. <a href="http://obvious.com/">Obvious</a>, the San Francisco company behind Twitter, will obviously want to make money.</p>
<p>The Twitter downsides are also obvious. Prufrock mourned how he had measured out his life in coffee spoons, and Twitter can be nothing more than an hourly confirmation of our pointless daily round. And, as a friend explained, there is a Heisenberg Uncertainty problem with the site. The correct answer to &quot;What are you doing now?&quot; is always &quot;Typing something into Twitter.&quot; But I suspect that it's the open-ended charisma of that question that is propelling the Twitter phenomenon. Life is filled with distraction, and here is this simple Web site asking us to stop and think: &quot;What are you doing?&quot; It's micro-therapy, 14 times a day. Or a new kind of Zen koan. Is it possible to twitter yourself to enlightenment? Twitter is asking us to pay attention, to account for our time, and even to gather a sense of our purpose and usefulness in this world.</p>
<p>Or, maybe not. Maybe everyone sounds profound at 140 characters.</p>Tue, 10 Apr 2007 20:15:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/04/what_are_you_doing.htmlMichael Agger2007-04-10T20:15:00ZThe allure of Twitter, the latest Web sensation.TechnologyThe allure of Twitter, the latest Web sensation.2163861Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2163861falsefalsefalseThe allure of Twitter, the latest Web sensation.The allure of Twitter, the latest Web sensation.Laptop Celebrityhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/03/laptop_celebrity.html
<p> The growth of the Internet is fueled by yearning: What will happen when I put my thoughts online? Will people notice? Will people respond to my personal video? How many hits did I get? Who looked at my profile today? Who read my post? Who linked to me? Will my blog make me famous? When can I quit my day job?</p>
<p>Sadly, most blogs have an audience in the single digits. And most video blogs, unless made by an attractive woman, have a likely audience of one. But the 34-year-old Ze Frank defied these statistics and achieved laptop celebrity. Over the past year, he has created a five-day-a-week show, called <em> <a href="http://www.zefrank.com/theshow/">The Show</a></em>, that's composed of monologues spoken into a camera. <em>The Show</em> ended last week, at the 365-day mark. At roughly three minutes per episode, that adds up to 13 hours of improvised insights and cult creation. It's the best sustained comedy run in the history of the Web. Too bad it's over. And irreproducible. </p>
<p>Ze Frank tasted Internet stardom early. In 2001, he made a <a href="http://www.zefrank.com/invite/swfs/index2.html">party invitation of funny dance moves</a> for a few friends. The invite went viral, and he had the experience of refreshing his e-mail to find 60 to 70 new messages from around the world. He was a network star, and the attention was addictive. The dance thing, however, was a fluke. The real challenge would be to create that kind of attention purposefully, from scratch. He quit his job and built up his personal Web site. He had a few successes, but nothing on the level of <em>The Show</em>.</p>
<p>Reached on the phone in Brooklyn this week, Ze Frank seemed strung out from his yearlong experiment. &quot;On Monday, I bought a newspaper, and literally my mind is cranking out one-liners.&quot; (Ze riffed on the news as part of <em>The Show</em>.) He talked about <em>The Show</em>'s early days, in March 2006: &quot;YouTube hadn't really caught on. There were a handful of aggressive video blogs. No one was harnessing the conversational energy.&quot; That was the genius insight: Ze conceived of his project as a conversation. Most writing and art says, &quot;Look at me.&quot; Ze said, &quot;Talk to me.&quot;</p>
<p>The <a href="http://www.zefrank.com/theshow/archives/2006/03/031706.html">first episode</a> is slightly painful to watch. Ze goes on too long, in the way that video bloggers tend to. He comes off as a bug-eyed crank hopped up on Starbucks. But notice the unusual greeting: &quot;Sports racer, racing sports. What's your power move? Ka!&quot; From the start, Ze threw in terms that would become insider passwords. &quot;Sports racers,&quot; we would discover, are fans of the show. A &quot;power move&quot; is any sort of singular gesture. It became a running feature, with people submitting their own power moves for the host's approval. (My favorite is the &quot;<a href="http://www.zefrank.com/theshow/archives/2006/06/061906.html">bonesaw</a>.&quot;) The first episode also made no effort to explain the purpose or format of the show. </p>
<p>Ze quickly developed a more alert visual style, something akin to Andy Rooney on speed. It involves lots of quick cuts and, eerily, an absence of blinking. The overall effect is of someone grabbing your shoulders. The JonBenet <a href="http://www.zefrank.com/theshow/archives/2006/08/082906.html">episode</a> offers a prime example. Ze talks about John Karr, the &quot;football-headed&quot; guy who was arrested then released in connection with the murder. Ze explains that Karr was trying to attach himself to the JonBenet brand, prompting <a href="http://www.zefrank.com/thewiki/the_show:_08-29-06">this exchange</a> with himself:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>JonBenet Ramsey's not a brand!</p>
<p>She isn't a brand ... but there is a JonBenet brand. It's just not one most people would want to associate themselves with. </p>
<p>And it worked! He got a business-class flight out of it, and the overall brand experience now includes his weird head. </p>
<p><em>(Blank sheeplike look, bleating)</em> FIRST! </p>
<p>What the hell do <em>you</em> mean by brand? </p>
<p>A brand is an emotional aftertaste that's conjured up by, but not necessarily dependent on, a series of experiences. </p>
<p>An emotional aftertaste? That sounds like sissy talk! But every <em>(Max Headroom-style stutter)</em>, but every, but everything has an emotional aftertaste. </p>
<p>Right! And everything's a potential brand! </p>
<p>Think about your grandmother. Feel it? </p>
<p><em>(Fond, happy little chuckle)</em></p>
<p>Right, that feeling is your grandma's brand. A bunch of experiences contributed to the making of that brand, like making good cookies. And tucking you in. And chasing you under a table when you called your uncle an alcoholic. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>The cuts allow him to set up jokes with himself, to be his own straight man. It's a golden comic technique that's perfect for the time compression that Web video demands. Ze explains the development of his style this way: &quot;The quick-cutting came out of the fact that when I started the project, I did not want to write it. The shows … are basically improvised line by line. I would scour for interesting things and take an emotional pulse for the day. I kept my eyes open because I was concentrating.&quot;</p>
<p>Instead of rolling out canned bits, Ze woke up every morning and cobbled together elaborate riffs. The May 4 <a href="http://www.zefrank.com/theshow/archives/2006/05/050406.html">episode</a>, shot in Cannes, gives a capsule summary of the arguments for and against evolution; eventually, he decides that the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Turducken">turducken</a> serves as proof that God exists. All in all, an impressive afternoon's work. Ze did other things right. He kept the shows around three minutes (which just happens to be the length of a <em>Sesame Street</em> skit). He plucked interesting things from his reading and his life. He was self-deprecating. And, in a pinch, he could fall back on a signature gift: the ability to make up <a href="http://www.zefrank.com/theshow/archives/2006/05/051506.html">funny songs</a>. </p>
<p>By not planning ahead, Ze was able to respond to the news and to all of the things that his fans threw at him. The longer the show went on, Ze found, the more difficult it was to execute. It was like &quot;running through syrup. Every action had a history. You can play into it, and it becomes format. Or you can play against it. By the end, it was really hard to come up with new things that would challenge the structure.&quot; (If you ever wondered why your favorite TV show doesn't change at all, there's your answer.) Ze responded by doing weird formal experiments, such as the &quot;<a href="http://www.zefrank.com/theshow/archives/2006/10/101006.html">Left Turn</a>&quot; episode, where he inhabits the mind of someone watching <em>The Show</em>. He also cultivated a cult mentality. When he was featured in a <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2006/06/18/fashion/sundaystyles/18ze.html?ex=1308283200&amp;en=75012f528a1baac1&amp;ei=5088&amp;partner=rssnyt&amp;emc=rss">glowing <em>New York Times</em> profile</a>, Ze began making boring intros such as a <a href="http://www.zefrank.com/theshow/archives/2006/04/042706.html">tour of Brooklyn stairs</a> to scare off new viewers. </p>
<p>For those who stuck around, the result was a new kind of improvised conversation/performance art. Ze beamed himself out to a worldwide audience and gathered them into a universe of his own devising. A wiki sprung up, with fans completing a transcript of every episode. Ze also gave out missions, such as creating <a href="http://www.myspace.com/soybuddha">the ugliest MySpace page</a> and building an &quot;Earth sandwich,&quot; which consisted of placing pieces of bread on exact opposite points of the globe. It was this &quot;live&quot; element that made the project not-televison, not-boring, and ultimately fleeting. There are some lasting, classic episodes of <em>The Show</em>—&quot;<a href="http://www.zefrank.com/theshow/archives/2006/07/071106.html">Brain Crack</a>&quot; and &quot;<a href="http://www.zefrank.com/theshow/archives/2007/02/020707.html">Procrastination</a>,&quot; in particular—but for now, the party is over. It was like attending a great concert. We are all streaming out of the arena. The only thing left to do is <a href="http://www.spreadshirt.com/shop.php?sid=32217">buy a T-shirt</a>.</p>Fri, 23 Mar 2007 19:12:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/03/laptop_celebrity.htmlMichael Agger2007-03-23T19:12:00ZHow Ze Frank became a Web video star.TechnologyHow Ze Frank became a Web video star.2162553Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2162553falsefalsefalseHow Ze Frank became a Web video star.How Ze Frank became a Web video star.The Show With Ze FrankLe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/03/le_browser.html
<p> One of the great browsers of all time, Jean Baudrillard, died in France last week. Here in America, his legacy is already cooling into embers. He's the philosopher who was namechecked in <em>The Matrix</em>, the French kook who said the Gulf War did not take place, and the man who wrote this about the World Trade Center: &quot;The horror for the 4,000 victims of dying in those towers was inseparable from the horror of living in them—the horror of living and working in sarcophagi of concrete and steel.&quot;</p>
<p>That sentence about 9/11 demonstrates Baudrillard's grotesque allure—his willingness to go to an inhuman extreme to make a surgical strike on your consciousness. It also reveals the basic problem with JB: To quote him is to misquote him. His writings are cumulative, a long spiraling arc of interpretation. For the record, he thought <em>The Matrix</em> misconstrued his ideas, and he did indeed believe the Gulf War took place. His point was that most of us experienced it as a CNN-televised event. I never followed Baudrillard's writings through their post-structuralist thickets, but I cherish an early, accessible book of his titled <em> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/America-Jean-Baudrillard/dp/8433925059/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/103-7941306-5468640?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books&amp;qid=1173886089&amp;sr=8-1">America</a></em> and published in translation in 1988. It's Baudrillard 101, in which the man who proclaimed the death of the real has a surreal fling with the Reagan-era reality of New York, Los Angeles, and the desert Southwest.</p>
<p>In the introduction to Robert Frank's <em> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Robert-Frank-Americans/dp/3931141802/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/103-7941306-5468640?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books&amp;qid=1173804480&amp;sr=8-1">The Americans</a></em>, Jack Kerouac wrote that the photographer had &quot;sucked a sad, sweet poem out of America.&quot; In <em>America</em><em>,</em> Baudrillard got America drunk on red wine and tried out all his best lines on her. Here's his take on Salt Lake City:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Pompous Mormon symmetry. Everywhere marble: flawless, funereal (the Capitol, the organ in the Visitor Center). Yet a Los-Angelic modernity, too—all the requisite gadgetry for a minimalist, extraterrestrial comfort. The Christ-topped dome (all the Christs here are copied from Thorwaldesn's and look like Bjorn Borg) straight of out of <em>Close Encounters</em>: religion as special effects. In fact the whole city has the transparency and supernatural, otherworldly cleanness of a thing from outer space.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Baudrillard has a fixation on Mormons, whom he calls &quot;rich-living, puritanical Conquistadors.&quot; They represent a distinctly American religion—untroubled by its origins and unburdened by the weight of history and tradition prevalent in Europe. The most famous line from <em>America</em> is Baudrillard's contention that the United States is the &quot;<em>only remaining primitive society</em>.&quot; He perceived Americans as locked in a blithe embrace of the present—narcissistic, superficial, unaware. &quot;I ask of the Americans only that they be Americans,&quot; he wrote. </p>
<p>And I ask of Baudrillard that he be only Baudrillard. I like to leaf through <em>America</em>, reading sentences at random: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>Why do people live in New York? … There is no human reason to be here, except for the sheer ecstasy of being crowded together. </p>
<p>&quot;Breakdancing&quot; is a feat of acrobatic gymnastics. Only at the end do you realize it was actually dancing, when the dancer freezes into a lazy, languid pose (elbow on the ground, head nonchalantly resting in the palm of the hand, the pose you see on Etruscan tombs).</p>
<p>Nothing evokes the end of the world more than a man running straight ahead on a beach, swathed in the sounds of his walkman, cocooned in the solitary sacrifice of his energy, indifferent even to catastrophes since he expects destruction to come only as the fruit of his own efforts, from exhausting the energy of a body that has in his own eyes become useless. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>Similar to the Walkman, Baudrillard saw the solipsistic circle between man and computer in the word-processor era:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Hence, the academic grappling with his computer, ceaselessly correcting, reworking, and complexifying, turning the exercise into a kind of interminable psychoanalysis, memorizing everything in an effort to escape the final outcome, to delay the day of reckoning with death, and that other—fatal—moment of reckoning that is writing, by forming an endless feed-back loop with machine.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Throw in a few coffee breaks/e-mail checks and that's an apt description of my writing process in 2007. Baudrillard was wary of computers and what he called the &quot;ecstasy of communication&quot; that the Internet makes more apparent each day. Perhaps this future-pessimism is why he never became a huge cult figure on the Web. But even JB has not escaped the grasp of YouTube. This <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g-_ITSVzkrk">filmed 2004 lecture</a> Baudrillard gave at the European Graduate School shows that he was a master of the oracular French intellectual delivery. And, a machinima called &quot;<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-i_bklYy5pM">Grand Theft Simulacra</a>&quot; consists of a strange voice reading Baudrillard passages over Grand Theft Auto scenes. It's an appropriate mash-up, as JB wrote often about Las Vegas, Los Angeles, advertising, consumerism, and mindless violence.</p>
<p>Baudrillard followed up <em>America</em> with several other journal-like, aphoristic volumes. Some criticized him for his seeming abandonment of formal argument and analysis. But the casual Baudrillard is my favorite Baudrillard, a wellspring of ideas that turn you sideways. So, before Baudrillard becomes required reading (he was a big despiser of academe), let your mind bounce off this book. You'll get a sense of what the grad-student fuss is about, why he is a &quot;<a href="http://www.csun.edu/~hfspc002/baud/">password into the next universe</a>,&quot; an heir to Tocqueville, and an irreplaceable original.</p>Wed, 14 Mar 2007 20:38:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/03/le_browser.htmlMichael Agger2007-03-14T20:38:00ZSaluting Jean Baudrillard.TechnologySaluting Jean Baudrillard.2161813MormonsMichael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2161813falsefalsefalseSaluting Jean Baudrillard.Saluting Jean Baudrillard.Jean BaudrillardThe Nerd Auteurshttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/02/the_nerd_auteurs.html
<p> <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2160173"></a> Over the past 24 hours, I have seen a night elf and a dwarf compete in a &quot;dance-off.&quot; I have seen an Arab guerilla force overwhelm American soldiers in an Iraq-like setting. I have seen Princess Leia gyrating to &quot;My Humps&quot; for the benefit of Han Solo. I have seen fighter planes conversing in French. Yes, I've been watching machinima.</p>
<p>Machinima, perhaps the worst-named genre ever, is the blanket term for movies made with characters and graphics from videogames. The typical machinima comes to life when two teenage boys move their Halo 2 fighters around, record the scene using computer software, dub &quot;funny&quot; dialogue over it, and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IAEtar9rNq8">post the result</a> on YouTube. At first glance, machinima seems like a cultural freak show along the lines of fan fiction. But a small bit of digging reveals examples that are well-crafted and clever, including the long-running series <em> <a href="http://rvb.roosterteeth.com/home.php">Red vs. Blue</a>, </em>and <em> <a href="http://www.machinima.com/films.php?id=1407">The French Democracy</a></em>, a response to that country's 2006 riots. Machinima is currently the province of amateurs—full of surprising, pointless creations. That may change quickly, as machinima is ripe for mainstream adoption. The Super Bowl this year <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pkn1Ci9zqcY">featured a Coke ad</a> that was a homage to Grand Theft Auto, and with video games firmly established as the lingua franca of teens everywhere, more machinima-esque shows and movies are sure to follow.</p>
<p>Click <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2159994/slideshow/2160173">here</a> for a video slide show of machinima, before it's overexposed.</p>Tue, 20 Feb 2007 17:10:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/02/the_nerd_auteurs.htmlMichael Agger2007-02-20T17:10:00ZA video slide show.TechnologyThe world's best machinima.2159994Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2159994falsefalsefalseThe world's best machinima.The world's best machinima.The Camera Phonehttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/01/the_camera_phone.html
<p> Ten years ago, Philippe Kahn was walking around a hospital with a cell phone and a digital camera. His dadly mission: to share pictures of his newborn baby girl. With an assist from Radio Shack, he linked the two devices together and e-mailed photos to family and friends around the world. The day marked a twin birth of sorts: the cell phone camera and daughter Sophie.</p>
<p>Kahn regards his invention with paternal pride: &quot;I built it to document the birth of my daughter. For us, it has always been a positive thing.&quot; So he was taken aback recently when, with the Saddam-hanging video circling the globe, an interviewer compared him to the inventor of the Kalashnikov. First there was <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/4170083.stm">Prince Harry's Nazi costume</a>, then the <a href="http://www.defamer.com/hollywood/kate-moss/kate-moss-cocaine-video-hits-the-internets-128747.php">shaming of Kate Moss</a>, then the <a href="http://www.tmz.com/2006/11/20/kramers-racist-tirade-caught-on-tape">Michael Richards racist explosion</a>, but, for some, Saddam's hanging marks the low point for Kahn's creation. A camera on a phone has only aided the perverted, the nosy, the violent, and the bored.</p>
<p>That's not exactly fair, but it's not exactly wrong, either. As Kahn told <em>Wired </em>in 2000: &quot;With this kind of device, you're going to see the best and the worst of things.&quot; The best would include photo caller-ID, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GlWa7VqaduE">amateur sports highlights</a>, and the quick citizen snaps taken in the wake of the London bombings. Yet, despite the fun and occasional worthiness, the cell phone camera has launched a thousand jackasses. One representative example: Sportscaster Sean Salisbury was suspended by ESPN last month, <a href="http://deadspin.com/sports/sean-salisbury/if-sean-salisbury-asks-you-to-look-at-his-phone-dont-do-it-226599.php">reportedly</a> for showing female co-workers cell phone photos of his &quot;equipment.&quot; </p>
<p>When video technology was added to phones (with little fanfare), the madness went up a notch. English youths devised a pleasant game called &quot;happy slapping,&quot; which involves assaulting random strangers while your mates record the whole thing. The happy slapping craze spread throughout Europe last year, leading to outraged op-eds and calls to ban cell phones from schools. While the phenomenon is marked by more than a touch of media hysteria, you can certainly find <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wt3tQjapX14">disturbing videos</a> on YouTube. (The French, naturally, replied with &quot;<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWrsrKcf3AM">Streetkissing</a>.&quot;) There have also been news reports of graphic videos showing beatings and accidents, such as an unfortunate boy in Birmingham, United Kingdom,&nbsp;who <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/west_midlands/4674539.stm">impaled himself on his bicycle</a>. Teenagers have employed cell phone cameras for old-fashioned humiliation, too: The parking lot fight is now captured on video and shared. To be an adult is to be grateful to have escaped the digital hazing of high school.</p>
<p>In glorious retrospect, it seems like a terrifically bad idea to give the world a spy camera that looks and functions like a cell phone. Peeping Toms quickly realized the potential for upskirt pics and shower-room souvenirs. Chicago tried to block cell phones from gyms, and a California legislator has proposed a law requiring the cell phone to make a shutter snapping sound or flash a light when a picture is taken. We have trained ourselves to be wary when a cell phone is pointed at us, but the device's relative inconspicuousness still creates problems. In Saudi Arabia, women have been taking pictures of other women unveiled at weddings and e-mailing them to matchmakers, a practice that has caused uproar in a culture in which any sort of image can be cause for loss of honor.</p>
<p>The cell phone camera, constant companion, has also been championed as an anti-crime device. There have been several Rodney King moments, with bystanders pulling out their cameras to record sketchy police activity. One woman took a shot of a flasher on a New York subway, a photo that ended up on the cover of the <em>New York Post</em> the next day. There is also a mini-boom in sites to catch people who <a href="http://www.parkingidiots.blogspot.com/">park like idiots</a>, <a href="http://hollabacknyc.blogspot.com/">stare too long</a>, and <a href="http://isawyournanny.blogspot.com/">mistreat your kids</a>. Think of this as the positive side of living in <em>1984</em>.</p>
<p> The more difficult question, the one that lurks outside the media glare, is how the cell phone camera is altering our private lives. In the perceptive book <em> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Nostalgia-Cultural-Frames-Framing-Culture/dp/0813919592/sr=8-1/qid=1169060760/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/104-9346129-1333515?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books">Kodak and the Lens of Nostalgia</a></em>, Nancy Martha West writes how Kodak, with the introduction of the personal camera, taught Americans to both conceive of their lives in terms of fondly remembered events and to edit out unpleasant memories. In Victorian America, for example, arranging to take a photo of a dead relative was not uncommon—a part of the grieving process. Under the reign of Kodak and its advertising, we became family historians of happiness. Now that digital cameras have taken over, the old photo album is giving way to the <a href="http://www.flickr.com/">personal Flickr page</a>, bringing with it a different set of assumptions of what to present (a whole lot more photos, for starters) and whom to share it with.</p>
<p>The ubiquity of the cell phone camera means that every moment in our lives is photographable. One consequence of this is an altered perception of the gravity of our day-to-day routines. We are now more aware of ourselves as observers of &quot;history.&quot; When a van catches fire in front of our house, we and our neighbors are now out on the lawn recording. We e-mail this to our friends, who testify to the enormity of the event, and then we all await the next sensation. This impulse can be positive, but it also fuels the increasingly destructive American habit of oversharing. The snapshot speaks with a small voice: <em>I'm alive and I saw this. </em>The cell phone camera picture or video is a shout from the rooftop: <em>Check out this crazy thing that happened to me</em>.</p>
<p>Picture sharing has also made us more aggressive in situations in which we feel insecure, such as in the presence of celebrities. Susan Sontag described the essentially hostile nature of taking pictures as a form of &quot;soft&quot; murder. In the age of cell phones, this scalp-hunting sensibility is achieving full flower. Let's say you're in Asbury Park and you see Bruce Springsteen with his kids. The old impulse would have been to ask the Boss if you could take your picture with him. The new impulse is to snap the shot with a cell phone camera and sell it to a site like <a href="http://www.scoopt.com/">Scoopt</a>. No wonder famous people don't want to hang out with us.</p>
<p>So, before we move on to the next racist comedian or cocaine-snorting supermodel, let's put the Saddam video in context. It is a weird echo of the Zapruder film, another piece of amateur footage that caught the death of a leader. The differences are stark, of course. Zapruder captured Kennedy while standing openly in the Dallas sunlight. The official who videoed Saddam did so furtively, pointing his camera to the ground at times. But they both testify to the power of first-person witnessing, and how a digital copy of that witnessing can upend neat narratives and certainties. We'll see the best of things, we'll see the worst of things, we'll see everything. </p>
<p><em>The Browser would like to thank the excellent Web site <a href="http://www.picturephoning.com/">picturephoning.com</a>.</em></p>Wed, 17 Jan 2007 23:21:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/01/the_camera_phone.htmlMichael Agger2007-01-17T23:21:00ZThe gadget that perverts, vigilantes, and celebrity stalkers can all agree on.TechnologyWhen camera phones attack.2157736Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2157736falsefalsefalseWhen camera phones attack.When camera phones attack.Google Patent Overloadhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/01/google_patent_overload.html
<p> Three weeks ago, Google introduced its new search service, <a href="http://www.google.com/patents">Google Patents</a>. The jokes followed pretty much immediately. Unmentionable medical devices were dragged into the cold light of day. Sex toys and <a href="http://www.google.com/patents?vid=USPAT6313371&amp;id=7vUHAAAAEBAJ&amp;dq=flatulence+deodorizer">flatulence deodorizers</a> were uncovered and mocked. The inventors of the bong, the keggerator, and the Nerf football were celebrated. It was as though a band of drunken Sigma Chis had crashed a party for patent lawyers.</p>
<p>Now that the buzz is wearing off, it's time to ask what Google Patents is actually good for. The wizards of Mountain View have stated that their corporate ethos is to organize all of human knowledge. But why is it that Google's search technology often seems like a killer app for ending pointless conversations? With the debut of Google Patents, a question from a cubicle mate along the line of, &quot;Do you think my <em>American Idol</em> board game idea will make me rich?&quot; can be answered with the near-universal reply, &quot;I don't know. Google it.&quot;</p>
<p>Technically, Google's newest search service is information regifting. The Google Patents database holds drawings and descriptions of the approximately 7 million patents that have been granted by the U.S. Patent Office since 1790. All of them have been available at the <a href="http://www.uspto.gov/patft/">official USPO site</a> for some time now. What Google has done is give this data a user-friendly search interface and prominent placement at the crossroads of the Internet. But it's hard to ignore the mercenary whiff in the air: Let's throw up something with vague usefulness and see if the people come (and then advertise to them). </p>
<p>Rummaging around Google's patents archive, I was simultaneously depressed and uplifted by the scope of human invention—a lot like how I feel at a garage sale. I found the <a href="http://www.google.com/patents?vid=USPAT1&amp;id=krA-AAAAEBAJ&amp;dq=patent:1&amp;as_drrb_ap=q&amp;as_minm_ap=1&amp;as_miny_ap=2006&amp;as_maxm_ap=1&amp;as_maxy_ap=2006&amp;as_drrb_is=q&amp;as_minm_is=1&amp;as_miny_is=2006&amp;as_maxm_is=1&amp;as_maxy_is=2006&amp;jtp=1#PPR2,M1">first patent</a>, an improvement to locomotives &quot;by which the evil effects of frost, ice, and snow, and mud on the rail are obviated&quot; (issued to John Ruggles of Thomaston, in the state of Maine, in 1836). Further digging showed, however, that the earliest patents were destroyed in a fire, and are referred to as X-patents. The <a href="http://www.google.com/patents?vid=USPATX1&amp;id=nrxzAAAAEBAJ&amp;dq=patent:x1&amp;jtp=1">real No. 1</a>, from 1790, details a method of making pot ash (not what it sounds like). The impression given by these X-patents is that early America was a Republican's dream: a place populated by can-do tinkerers and entrepreneurs striving to fine-tune the agrarian and mechanical world around them. On closer examination, that vision becomes complicated. Many patents were issued to immigrants who still claimed their countries of origin as their hometowns.</p>
<p>One of the original purposes of the U.S. Patent Office was to share information about inventions. For that reason, an application typically contains a drawing, an explanation of how the device works, and various &quot;claims&quot; for why it's a new development. Google Patents can feel like an electronic pile of someone else's tedious paperwork, brimming with valuable cultural snapshots. Consider <a href="http://www.google.com/patents?vid=USPAT586165&amp;id=KyhiAAAAEBAJ&amp;printsec=abstract&amp;zoom=4&amp;num=100&amp;as_drrb_is=b&amp;as_minm_is=1&amp;as_miny_is=1873&amp;as_maxm_is=1&amp;as_maxy_is=1950">Patent No. 586165</a>, a Victorian gem issued in 1897 to John J. Dougherty of Paterson, N.J., for an &quot;Ornamental Screen for Ladies' Bicycle-Saddles.&quot; Dougherty noticed a problem with ladies on bikes: &quot;The clothing of the rider, while it may be arranged for comfort, frequently may not be arranged to avoid attracting attention and criticism.&quot; His fan, which attached to the back of a seat, is a little monument to the morals of the time, and to the burgeoning athleticism of women.</p>
<p>The assumption behind Google Patents is that it will somehow spur invention in our own time, but bloggers have already <a href="http://carolyne-stuff.blogspot.com/2006/12/search-for-us-patents-on-google.html">pointed out</a> that Google's search engine misses results. Serious inventors will want to use more established methods (or even one of those patent lawyers) to see where their idea stands. And, while the cute 1994 patent for the &quot;<a href="http://www.google.com/patents?id=vjElAAAAEBAJ">Finger puppet</a>&quot; that appears on the Google Patent home page suggests that there's still room for the little guy, corporations dominate the patent scene. Worse, for every John Q. American who dreams up a new golf gadget, there are a host of &quot;invention marketing firms&quot; standing by to fleece him of his money. A 2000 <em>Time </em>article tells of a Texas man who thought up a rural tornado warning system only to lose $13,000 to predatory companies. Sections of books like <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Complete-Idiots-Guide-Cashing-Inventions/dp/0028642201/sr=8-1/qid=1167313369/ref=sr_1_1/103-3612571-1395840?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books"><em>The Complete Idiot's Guide to Cashing in on Your Invention</em></a> describe how to avoid getting ripped off. In the early '90s, the FTC went after these firms with &quot;Operation Mousetrap,&quot; but they're still around, waiting to dupe the innocent inventor blinded by the brilliance of her idea.</p>
<p>Judging from inventor sites and magazines such as <em> <a href="http://www.inventorsdigest.com/ME2/Default.asp">Inventors' Digest</a></em> and <em> <a href="http://www.inventionconvention.com/americasinventor/">America's Inventor</a></em>, these people are not easily daunted. Stories of failure-then-success are passed around inventor circles like a joint at a high-school prom: Did you know that Michael Jordan did not make the varsity basketball team his sophomore year? Or that Einstein flunked his math class? The authors of <em>Inventing for Dummies</em> nakedly point out that only 7 percent of patent owners make enough profit to recoup the money they spend on the patent application. The most realistic shot at success for the &quot;independent inventor&quot; apparently lies in the toy business. To enter into this subculture is to be familiar with the work of Larry Reiner, who invented G.I. Joe, and Richard James, who became rich off the Slinky but left it all behind to join a religious cult in Bolivia. Somewhere in the land, the next Beanie Baby, Cabbage Patch Kid, Connect Four, or Super Soaker awaits its Edison. </p>
<p>In the meantime, the rest of us can sit back and play armchair sociologist. Economist Craig Depken <a href="http://heavylifting.blogspot.com/2006/12/on-sport-popularity-and-patents.html">pointed out</a> that there is a correlation between a sport's popularity and the number of patented inventions for it. (A crude search suggests that golf is No. 1 in terms of the total number of patents, followed by weightlifting, bicycle riding, fishing, and exercise walking.) Those poster children for patent abuse, aka the &quot;<a href="http://www.google.com/patents?vid=USPAT6004596&amp;id=GCYXAAAAEBAJ&amp;dq=crustless">Sealed crustless sandwich</a>&quot; and the &quot;<a href="http://www.google.com/patents?vid=USPAT6701872&amp;id=sXQQAAAAEBAJ&amp;dq=method+of+exercising+a+cat+with+a+laser+pointer">Method and apparatus for automatically exercising a curious animal</a>&quot; have been paraded again for public shaming. Celebrity inventors include Mark Twain, who has a <a href="http://www.google.com/patents?as_q=&amp;num=10&amp;btnG=Google+Search&amp;as_epq=&amp;as_oq=&amp;as_eq=&amp;as_pnum=&amp;as_vt=&amp;as_pinvent=samuel+l.+clemens&amp;as_pasgnee=&amp;as_pusc=&amp;as_pintlc=&amp;as_drrb_is=q&amp;as_minm_is=1&amp;as_miny_is=2006&amp;as_maxm_is=1&amp;as_maxy_is=2006&amp;as_drrb_ap=q&amp;as_minm_ap=1&amp;as_miny_ap=2006&amp;as_maxm_ap=1&amp;as_maxy_ap=2006">few inventions</a> to his name, as does <a href="http://www.google.com/patents?vid=USPAT2882643&amp;id=_v5tAAAAEBAJ&amp;dq=ininventor:john+ininventor:dos+ininventor:passos&amp;as_drrb_ap=q&amp;as_minm_ap=1&amp;as_miny_ap=2006&amp;as_maxm_ap=1&amp;as_maxy_ap=2006&amp;as_drrb_is=q&amp;as_minm_is=1&amp;as_miny_is=2006&amp;as_maxm_is=1&amp;as_maxy_is=2006&amp;jtp=1#PPP2,M1">John Dos Passos</a> (a toy bubble gun!) and <a href="http://www.google.com/patents?vid=USPAT2590026&amp;id=iKpLAAAAEBAJ&amp;printsec=abstract&amp;zoom=4&amp;dq=ininventor:zeppo+ininventor:marx&amp;as_drrb_ap=q&amp;as_minm_ap=1&amp;as_miny_ap=2006&amp;as_maxm_ap=1&amp;as_maxy_ap=2006&amp;as_drrb_is=q&amp;as_minm_is=1&amp;as_miny_is=2006&amp;as_maxm_is=1&amp;as_maxy_is=2006#PPA1952,M1">Zeppo Marx</a>. But if you want to join the great American tradition of the quick buck and the winning long shot, skip the invention game. Here's a better, free, unpatented idea: Buy some stock in a company with the ticker symbol <a href="http://finance.yahoo.com/q?s=goog">GOOG</a>.</p>Tue, 02 Jan 2007 17:21:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/2007/01/google_patent_overload.htmlMichael Agger2007-01-02T17:21:00ZThe scope of human invention depresses me.TechnologyWhere have you gone, Thomas Edison?2156386Michael AggerThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/2156386falsefalsefalseWhere have you gone, Thomas Edison?Where have you gone, Thomas Edison?Ellison's Wonderlandhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/06/ellisons_wonderland.html
<p> When Ralph Ellison died in 1994, he left behind thousands of pages of drafts and notes for the book he had been working on for 40 years--and a terrible dilemma. Ellison's readers (and Ellison's publisher) wanted the legendary second novel they were sure had to be buried in the papers somewhere. But literary scholars (and Ellison's friends) would surely denounce the publication of anything that went beyond the author's known intentions. Because the manuscript was nowhere near to being a coherent, finished work and because Ellison left no instructions, his literary executor John F. Callahan had to choose between disappointing the amateurs and infuriating the professionals.</p>
<p></p>
<p>The griping about <em>Juneteenth</em> even before publication makes it clear that Callahan has taken the side of readers. &quot;Ellison did not leave behind the shapely building that Callahan has given us,&quot; Gregory Feeley wrote last month in the <em>New York Times Magazine</em>. Critics quoted in the article complain that sections of the novel published as excerpts during Ellison's lifetime are missing, that important characters have withered or vanished, and that 1,500 or more pages have been whittled down to 350.</p>
<p></p>
<p>A scholarly edition, promised for the future, will enable better-informed opinions by placing this extract in the context of Ellison's longer manuscript. But on the basis of what we know, I'd say that Professor Callahan, who teaches at Lewis &amp; Clark College in Portland, Ore., deserves to be commended, not condemned. Without adding a word (other than the title <em>Juneteenth</em>), he has culled a nugget that gives a sense of what Ellison was up to all those years without harming any of the alternative conceptions of the work that are bound to emerge. <em>Juneteenth</em> doesn't pretend to be a definitive framework or even a framework at all. It's merely a necessary starting point for an inquiry into what might have been.</p>
<p></p>
<p>In an afterword, Callahan says that he took most of <em>Juneteenth</em> from Book II, the strongest and most heavily plotted part of what were apparently intended to be three parts. The story begins in Washington, D.C., circa 1955, when a black church delegation arrives at the office of the Sen. Adam Sunraider on urgent, unstated business. Before the group succeeds in reaching him, an assassin shoots the racist Sunraider from the Senate gallery. Critically wounded, Sunraider summons the leader of the congregation, the Rev. Alonzo Hickman, to his bedside. We learn that Hickman, a Baptist preacher known as &quot;God's Trombone,&quot; was the only father Sunraider ever had. Though either white or a fair-skinned mulatto, &quot;Bliss,&quot; as the senator was known as a boy, was raised by Hickman to be a black minister.</p>
<p></p>
<p>From here, the story unfolds outward in many directions at once, jumping from the hospital bed to various points in Hickman's and Sunraider's lives. The turning point for their relationship was a celebration of Juneteenth Day, a holiday commemorating the day in 1865 when slaves in Texas first learned that the Civil War was over and, two and a half years after the fact, that President Lincoln had issued the Emancipation Proclamation. Amid the festivities, a crazed white woman appeared claiming to be Bliss' mother. After this incident, Bliss became obsessed with his lost mother and eventually ran away from home. We get woozy glimpses of Bliss Sunraider's later life as a con artist, moviemaker, and chauffeur before he became a senator and a bigot.</p>
<p> L ittle of this information comes in the form of straightforward narrative but instead accumulates through murky fragments. The language is far more complex and difficult than that of <em>Invisible Man</em>. In place of a single narrator, there are at least three: The authorial voice; Hickman; and Sunraider, who speaks in a number of distinct tongues--as the child Bliss, in dreams, in remembered conversations, and in convoluted memories poured into a death-reverie stream of consciousness. (Click<u></u> to read a brief excerpt describing Sunraider waking in the hospital with Hickman at his bedside.)</p>
<p></p>
<p>The passage is characteristic of the book in both its lyricism and its opacity. We only find out subsequently that Sunraider is Bliss and that &quot;Why hast Thou forsaken me&quot; was his opening line at Hickman's revival service, when he would rise, Christ-like, from a coffin.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Only in a few places does <em>Juneteenth</em> attain the narrative velocity of <em>Invisible Man</em>. In a thrilling climax we finally hear the story of how Bliss came to be adopted by Hickman, and how Hickman was transformed from an Oklahoma City ne'er-do-well into a man of God (it hinges on a false accusation of rape, a lynching, and some amateur obstetrics). This section indicates that Ellison could still write in the lucid, explicit vein of his first novel but chose to do something more difficult and complex, both thematically and stylistically, in his second. Ellison's first love was jazz--he played the trumpet--and many of the passages in <em>Juneteenth</em> are extended riffs in a kind of free-form verbal polyphony. If <em>Invisible Man</em> was Louis Armstrong, <em>Juneteenth</em> is Charlie Parker.</p>
<p></p>
<p>At the level of plot, many things are never explained, among them how &quot;Bliss,&quot; got to be Sunraider, the story of Sunraider's own illegitimate mixed-race son (who seems also to be his assassin), and the meaning of the message that prompts Hickman to Washington. Future fragments may illuminate these issues. But these confusions seem largely purposeful, not accidents of omission by author or editor. If Ellison had finished and published his novel, the story still wouldn't be whole. It's meant to be up to the reader to assemble the shards into a vase. For this reason, one doesn't feel cheated by not having all the pieces. In a curious way, the unfinished state of the novel complements the inherent and intentional incompleteness of the underlying story.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Think of William Faulkner, whose characters often appear and reappear in his various novels and stories. It's as if Hickman and Sunraider have an independent existence of which Ellison offers glimpses and glances in the various pieces he never assembled into a single structure. For me <em>Juneteenth</em> recalled especially <em>Absalom, Absalom!</em> in which Quentin Compson puts together a story that rattles family skeletons and points up the reality that white Southern culture is blacker than meets the eye. Sunraider yearns to know who his mother is, and Hickman wants to know how Bliss became Sunraider. The reader approaches these mysteries through the incomplete knowledge of the characters. Crucial information is delayed and denied, which brings us back to the motif of &quot;Juneteenth,&quot; the day when slaves found out they'd been free for two and a half years.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Why didn't Ellison finish--or publish--the book? The oft-repeated official version involves a fire that destroyed an important manuscript in 1966. But as disastrous an event as that must have been, I find it unconvincing as an explanation. Ellison described losing a summer's worth of work. He had a decade of writing his novel behind him and almost three more ahead of him. A more compelling explanation is that Ellison wanted to write a second novel that would meet the standard of <em>Invisible Man</em> while being an entirely different kind of book. This strenuous ambition was confounded by a perfectionism that, as Ellison wrote in the introduction to his volume of essays <em>Shadow and Act</em>, made it somewhat &quot;unreal&quot; to even think of himself as a writer. As he puts it, &quot;my standards were impossibly high.&quot;</p>
<p></p>
<p>Those standards didn't keep Ellison from writing, merely from calling it quits. Failing to finish doesn't mean he failed. Indeed, a great, unfinished work can be more fascinating than a finished one because of the way the reader is drawn into the artistic process. <em>Juneteenth</em> is a truly interactive novel, in which readers are not an audience but collaborators, trying to pull together strands and elements of a story that has no final resolution. Other fragments and versions will add to what Callahan has assembled, not overwrite it. As with Faulkner, the boundaries of Ellison's separate texts may blur, but the mythic force of the buried story and the stylistic virtuosity of its telling will remain.</p>Sat, 05 Jun 1999 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/06/ellisons_wonderland.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-06-05T07:30:00ZA curious masterpiece finally arrives.TechnologyEllison's Wonderland29778Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/29778falsefalsefalseEllison's WonderlandEllison's WonderlandThe Fields of David Smithhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/05/the_fields_of_david_smith.html
<p> In the decade before his death in 1965, David Smith filled the hills around his home in the Adirondack Mountains with scores of monumental steel and iron sculptures, creating one of the most moving and idiosyncratic places in American art. This long-dispersed &quot;sculpture farm&quot; has been the inspiration for a three-year exhibition, curated by one of his daughters, titled &quot;The Fields of David Smith.&quot; This week, &quot;The Browser&quot; visits Storm King Art Center in upstate New York to view the third and final installment of the show, which runs through Nov. 15. The review takes the form of a virtual tour of selected works in the show. Click <u><a href="http://www.slate.com/features/browser_davidsmith/ds_01.htm">here</a></u> to begin the presentation of 15 slides. Click<u></u> for a text-only version.</p>Fri, 28 May 1999 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/05/the_fields_of_david_smith.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-05-28T07:30:00ZHis steel sculptures return to their roots.TechnologyThe Fields of David Smith29461Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/29461falsefalsefalseThe Fields of David SmithThe Fields of David SmithWhat Do You Mean by &quot;Violence&quot;?http://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/05/what_do_you_mean_by_violence.html
<p></p>
<p> At his White House summit on youth violence this week, President Clinton summed up the prevailing wisdom about entertainment and its connection to the Littleton, Colo., murders. &quot;We cannot pretend that there is no impact on our culture and our children that is adverse if there is too much violence coming out of what they see and experience,&quot; he said. In other words, the issue is the <em>quantity</em> of violence that kids absorb from television, video games, and movies. Countless academic studies frame the problem this way. They seek--and usually find--a correlation between how much violent entertainment children consume and how aggressively they behave.</p>
<p></p>
<p>This view isn't wrong, it's just way too crude. Asking whether violence on screen foments violence in life is like asking whether drinking liquids leads to car accidents. In a dumb way, the answer is yes. But you're not going to get anywhere until you distinguish between alcoholic beverages and nonalcoholic ones.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Hollywood types prefer to address this issue at this level of generality because it lets them off the hook. &quot;If you're looking for violence, what about the evening news?&quot; David Geffen asked in the <em>New York Times</em> just before the White House conference. &quot;America is bombing Yugoslavia; it's on every day. It's not a movie, it's real.&quot; If the problem is merely the quantity of violence kids see, Geffen is right. Teen-agers can get plenty of gore without ever renting a slasher film. But we all know from personal experience that different sorts of screen violence have drastically varying emotional effects. Some depictions whet our appetites for brutality, while others do just the opposite. These all-important distinctions are not ones that epidemiologists or sociologists or psychologists can measure very effectively, because they involve a strong subjective element. But until we begin to distinguish among the different ways violence is portrayed, we can't begin to understand what those portrayals may do. Here are some categories that may be helpful in thinking about the issue:</p>
<p> <a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/archive/media/2001/10/28000_28243_moviehamlet.mov">Hamlet</a> T <strong>ragic</strong> <strong>Violence:</strong> Needless to say, tragedy is often very violent. Take Kenneth Branagh's four-hour film version of <em>Hamlet</em>. Having punctured Laertes and launched him over a balcony, Hamlet, in the climactic scene, impales Claudius with a flying sword, brains him with a swinging chandelier, and force-feeds him poison. (View the scene above.) A 12-year-old watching this sequence in isolation might say that the violence is &quot;cool,&quot; in a low-tech sort of way. But how does this violence make the adult viewer feel? In the context of the play, the most prominent emotions it arouses are the ones Aristotle identified as the essence of tragedy: pity and fear. We pity a tragic hero such as Hamlet because his misfortune is undeserved, and we tremble at the realization that he is like us. Tragedy doesn't stir violent urges but rather inhibits them. That is why war films like <em>All Quiet on the Western Front</em> are often described as &quot;pacifistic.&quot; The tragic context of the violence sensitizes us to its horror and makes us revile it.</p>
<p><strong> <a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/archive/media/2001/10/28000_28245_movietheenforcer.mov">Enforcer</a> Righteous Violence:</strong> The Aristotelian opposite of the pity and fear is righteous indignation. This is the feeling we get when we see bad people flourish. It is stoked when we see them get their just deserts. That's what Clint Eastwood movies are all about. Typical of this type of drama is the 1976 film <em>The Enforcer</em>, a sequel to <em>Dirty Harry</em>. Eastwood pursues a gang of hippie terrorists who murder assorted innocents and kill his female partner in a shootout. (See Clint remedy the situation with a handheld mortar above.) The way you feel watching this act of violence is very different from the way you feel at the end of <em>Hamlet</em>. You experience satisfaction and glee, not pity and fear. You want to exclaim &quot;Yes!&quot; instead of &quot;No!&quot; In this category are most war movies as well as the <em>oeuvres</em> of Arnold Schwarzenegger, Charles Bronson, and Steven Seagal. In such films, the bad guys become increasingly subhuman and thus deserving of more and more grotesque forms of torture and dismemberment. In this sense, the old Hays Office production code, which required that films teach a moral lesson by having evildoers punished, had it backward. If you want to discourage violence, you should show the innocent suffering, not the guilty.</p>
<p></p>
<p>G<strong>raphic</strong><strong>Violence:</strong> Is a more realistic depiction of gore, in which someone's head is chopped off, affording a glimpse of severed tendons and gushing arteries, worse in terms of inuring viewers to violence than generic mayhem, in which the bad guys fall over dead? The body-counters tend to assume that graphic violence is worse. But more realistic depictions may prevent violence from becoming an abstract idea. Once again, the context is what matters. In a tragic story, graphic violence makes horror more horrible. A retributive context makes extreme gore less horrible. If I were a parent of adolescents, I'd try to keep them away from <em>Marked for Death</em> but not from <em>Saving Private Ryan</em>, even though the latter is far more vividly gruesome.</p>
<p><strong> <a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/archive/media/2001/10/28000_28247_moviescream.mov">Scream</a> Pornographic Violence:</strong> In horror films such as the <em>Friday the 13<sup>th</sup></em>, the issue of whether anyone deserves torture and dismemberment is immaterial. The deliciousness of the violence is the whole point. (Watch a clip from <em>Scream</em>, in which Drew Barrymore gets stabbed in the breast and dragged about her yard by a masked serial killer above.) If you're squeamish, you may cover your eyes when seeing this in a theater. But the horror is undeniably thrilling, in a sexual way. There's an obvious parallel between the blood-splatter climaxes in horror movies and the &quot;money shots&quot; in sex-porno. Indeed, the only difference between this kind of slasher film and snuff films is that no animals are harmed in the making of the former.</p>
<p> <a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/archive/media/2001/10/28000_28269_moviepulpfiction.mov">Pulp</a> I <strong>ronic</strong> <strong>Violence:</strong> There are people who will tell you that <em>Scream</em> and the meta-horror subgenre that developed from it are not crudely sexualized violent films. They're self-conscious, postmodern comments on crudely sexualized violent films. Critics of violent entertainment tend to hate this defense. It doesn't matter, they say, whether people are butchered ironically in films such as Oliver Stone's <em>Natural Born Killers</em> or Quentin Tarantino's <em>Reservoir Dogs</em>. Here, I think the difference between the response of an adult and that of a child becomes crucial. (Check out the torture-dungeon scene from Tarantino's <em>Pulp Fiction</em>, in which drug dealer Marsellus promises sweet revenge to the man who has just raped him, above.) Adults, or at least most adults, recognize this as a species of black comedy, albeit one that expresses a real sadism on the part of the director. But to immature minds, the message may be simply that brutality is cool and funny. In other words, ironic violence may be desensitizing and stimulating to the young in the same way that pornographic violence is.</p>
<p><strong> <a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/archive/media/2001/10/28000_28270_cartoonroadrunner.mov">RoadRunner</a> Cartoon Violence:</strong> What of films such as <em>Lethal Weapon 4</em>, in which the violence is not quite ironic but rather so hyperbolic and unreal that it becomes a cartoon? Or, for that matter, what of cartoons themselves, which are filled with calamities without consequences? (Watch Wile E. Coyote blown up, reconstituted, flattened, and reinflated above.) You might think that such portrayals teach the false lesson that violence doesn't have real effects. Perhaps for those too young to distinguish fantasy from reality, that's the case. But there's not much basis for thinking that this confusion persists. By the time a child is old enough to borrow his dad's guns (say, 10), he understands that cartoons and comics don't describe the real capacities of human beings.</p>
<p> <a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/archive/media/2001/10/28000_28271_moviebasketballdiaries.mov">Basketball</a> S <strong>chool</strong> <strong>Violence:</strong> Since the Columbine killings, there's been a special focus on depictions of adolescents committing mayhem in school. The two films cited most often are <em>Heathers</em>, in which Christian Slater is foiled in an attempt to detonate his school, and <em>The Basketball Diaries</em>, in which Leonardo DiCaprio fantasizes about gunning down his classmates and a priest <em>Terminator</em>-style while his buddies cheer. (View a clip from the movie, above.) This scene is now the centerpiece of a lawsuit by parents in Paduchah, Ky., who say the 14-year-old shooter who killed three children was motivated by the movie.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Of course, it is always possible that an unbalanced individual will misunderstand something in a crazy way, as John Hinckley did with <em>Taxi Driver</em>. But you can't protect yourself against the criminally insane by cutting off their sources of possible inspiration, which are limitless. Sane adolescents seeing either of these films would understand that it is the violent characters who are supposed to be deranged--in the case of <em>The Basketball Diaries</em> because of drugs. I'd worry more about <em>The Rage</em>: <em>Carrie 2</em>, which mixes righteous indignation with pornographic violence in a school setting. The issue isn't how much violence. It's what kind.</p>Sat, 15 May 1999 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/05/what_do_you_mean_by_violence.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-05-15T07:30:00ZCounting the bodies is a dumb way to rate movies.TechnologyWhat Do You Mean by &quot;Violence&quot;?28168Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/28168falsefalsefalseWhat Do You Mean by "Violence"?What Do You Mean by "Violence"?I Have Read the Futurehttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/05/i_have_read_the_future.html
<p> Since the launch of <strong><em>Slate</em></strong> nearly three years ago, we've joked about how you'd know when online magazines were ready for mass consumption. It would be when you could take them, like print magazines, to the bathroom. Well, I'm here to tell you: I've read <strong><em>Slate</em></strong> on the john.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Among the other places I have been reading <strong><em>Slate</em></strong>, <em>Salon,</em> an electronic version of the <em>Wall Street Journal</em>, and the e-texts of various novels and short stories, in last couple of weeks:</p>
<p></p>
<ul>
<li>Aloud to my wife in a car at night</li>
<li>In a taxi, again at night</li>
<li>While brushing my teeth</li>
<li>On a plane without an overhead light</li>
<li>Standing on the subway</li>
<li>In bed</li>
<li>While eating Chinese food with chopsticks</li>
</ul>
<p></p>
<p> These are situations in which reading is ordinarily either awkward or impossible. They present no challenge, however, to my new favorite gizmo, the Rocket eBook. I'm not what you would call an early adopter when it comes to consumer electronics. I don't have a DVD player, an MP3 player, or a Palm Pilot. But I'm ready to blow $499 on a Rocket as soon as I have to send my demo model back. This chunky little device, which weighs just under a pound and a half, actually deserves that overused epithet &quot;revolutionary,&quot; because it has the power to change something as basic to human civilization as the way people read.</p>
<p> A lot has happened since I wrote about<a></a> last fall. You can now actually buy two different models. One is the Softbook, which at $299 appears less expensive than the Rocket but actually costs more because you must commit to spending $479 on books over two years as part of the package. The Softbook is a writing-tablet-size screen with a leather cover that gives off what someone must have imagined to be the musty scent of an old book (but is actually the smell of a new shoe). The Softbook's one big advantage is that you don't need a PC to use it. You buy books directly from Softbook and download them into the reader via a phone line. But the Softbook has two big disadvantages. The first is that it's poorly designed. The screen is hard to read, navigating text is clumsy, and the whole device has an unbalanced feel. The second drawback is it doesn't work. After reading a bit of preloaded text--<em>The Sea Wolf,</em> by Jack London--I couldn't download anything else, and my Softbook soon purged its preloaded content as well. The only other person I know who has a Softbook reports a similar failure.</p>
<p></p>
<p>By contrast, the Rocket, which is made by a Silicon Valley start-up called NuvoMedia, is ergonomically sound, with the pleasing heft of a folded-over paperback. The screen is superb, and you get a choice of large or small print as well as a variety of lighting settings. You can orient the text horizontally or vertically and position the grip for left- or right-handed use. And because it doesn't need to be held open, you can read the Rocket one-handed. In fact, you can even prop it up and read no-handed if you're eating something greasy or shaving. All you need is one clean finger to click the &quot;forward&quot; and &quot;back&quot; buttons that move the text a page at a time. The battery lasts for some 30 hours before needing to be recharged.</p>
<p></p>
<p>And while the process of getting stuff to read on the Rocket is a bit involved, it actually works remarkably well. First, you load the Rocket software onto your PC. Second, you register your eBook and get an ID and a password. Third, you go to the Barnes &amp; Noble Web site, which is (but won't be for long) the exclusive distributor of Rocket-formatted content, and make your e-purchase. Fourth, Barnes &amp; Noble sends you an e-mail message with a Web link that allows you to download what you've purchased into the &quot;Rocket Library&quot; on your PC. Fifth, you transfer your book from your PC's Rocket Library to your Rocket, which has 4 mb of memory (enough to hold 20 medium-length novels). The only hitch I encountered in this procedure was that Barnes &amp; Noble took a few hours to e-mail the link I needed to download books I bought. (I understand that this is not an uncommon problem.) Instant gratification is an important part of the appeal of e-books, and I found this delay slightly maddening.</p>
<p> T here are other drawbacks of the sort you would expect from any infant technology. Barnes &amp; Noble stocks only 524 eBook titles at present, an unfortunately large number of them in the business and self-help categories. You can buy <em>Endless Referrals: Network Your Everyday Contacts Into Sales</em> and <em>Life Without Stress: The Far Eastern Antidote to Tension and Anxiety</em> (which would seem to cancel each other out) but not <em>Uncovering Clinton</em> or <em>The Ground Beneath Her Feet</em>. Recent publications are gratuitously overpriced. The discount price of <em>Angela's Ashes</em> is $10.40 in paperback, $17.50 in hardcover, and $20 for the eBook edition.</p>
<p></p>
<p>This makes no sense when you consider that the publisher has eliminated such expenses as paper, printing, binding, warehousing, distribution, and &quot;returns.&quot; Another advantage for publishers is that because a book is encrypted for a single user, it can't be copied, forwarded, or resold. So, why are publishers setting e-book list prices so high? Because they fear e-books, even as bookstores, including a sizable group of independent shops, embrace them. When you think about it, though, their positions might well be reversed. If e-books become a real alternative to p-books, publishers stand to gain by eliminating most of their fixed costs and by being able to keep everything in print forever. They might even envision cutting out the middleman, namely the bookstore. If I retailed books, I'd be worried. This, however, is only one scenario. Martin Eberhard, the CEO of NuvoMedia, thinks booksellers will remain part of the process. &quot;When's the last time you went shopping for a Simon &amp; Schuster book?&quot; he asks. And it might be established authors who would try to do an end run around publishers. &quot;It's not clear who gets disintermediated,&quot; he says.</p>
<p> T he really good news is that readers can disintermediate both publishers and booksellers and get thousands of books and magazines free. Just last week, Rocket released a beta version of software that lets anyone upload texts to its site, creating a kind of open-source library. The site offers <em>Hamlet</em>, the <em>Art of War,</em> and <em>Aesop's Fables,</em> among other titles. But more significantly, the Rocket eBook lets you download any text-based content from the Web or your hard drive. With the Rocket software, I downloaded <em>Daisy Miller</em>, <em>Our Mutual Friend,</em> and some other fiction in the public domain from the Project Gutenberg Web site before a transcontinental flight. Another feature I love is that you can find remembered passages by word-searching these texts. You can also highlight words and look them up in the pre-installed Random House Dictionary, though it didn't have &quot;arras,&quot; which James Wood used in last week's discussion of Vladimir Nabokov in <strong><em>Slate</em></strong>'s&quot;Book Club&quot; (it means &quot;tapestry&quot;). And I figured out how to download the full weekly text of <strong><em>Slate</em></strong> in one go by converting the <em><strong>Slate on Paper</strong></em> Microsoft Word file to the HTML format. (Late-model word processors allow you to use the &quot;Save As&quot; function to save documents in HTML.)</p>
<p></p>
<p>E-books are going to evolve. They will get lighter, their screens will get more legible, and their batteries will last longer. Soon, they may do what a related device called the Audible can do, and actually read to you, either via sound files or text-to-voice software. E-books may converge with other handheld devices. You can use the newest palm-sized organizers as talking books or readers--though you wouldn't want to read a novel on one, at least not yet. Most important, e-books will get cheaper. They may even be given away, or sold at a token price with content purchase agreements or subscriptions, on the model of cell phones. But I have no doubt that they're coming. And when they truly arrive, I predict that the Rocket will be remembered as a landmark: The first demonstration that reading a &quot;book&quot; didn't require paper, ink, or even an overhead light.</p>Sat, 08 May 1999 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/05/i_have_read_the_future.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-05-08T07:30:00ZAt dinner. In a taxi. On the john. With my electronic book.TechnologyI Have Read the Future27741Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/27741falsefalsefalseI Have Read the FutureI Have Read the FutureThe Whitney on Prozachttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/05/the_whitney_on_prozac.html
<p> Each of New York's big art museums has its own, distinct personality. The Guggenheim is a noisy extrovert that craves attention. The Met is deep, mysterious, and aloof--it takes years to really get to know it. MoMA is a bit vain, justifiably so. The oddball of the group is the Whitney Museum of American Art, which suffers from an institutional version of bipolar disorder. One day it shouts obscenities in your face. The next it's calm nearly to the point of affectlessness.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Lately, the Whitney has been taking its medication, in the form of new management. Until November 1998, the director of the museum was David Ross, who left to run the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. At the Whitney, Ross created a glittery uptown showcase for exhibitions of political and conceptual art that often took the form of whirring installations and blurry videos. The most notorious of these was &quot;The Black Male in Western Art,&quot; at which patrons were handed buttons reading &quot;I Can't Imagine Ever Wanting to be White.&quot; This was a museum that so angered traditionalists that one of the local weeklies used to run ads for a Whitney-shaped trash can. The new Whitney, run by a dapper fuddy-duddy named Maxwell Anderson, who came from the Art Gallery of Ontario, is just the opposite in almost every respect. Anderson's museum is traditional, art-history-minded, and eager to ingratiate itself with, rather than flabbergast and dumbfound, up- and out-of-towners.</p>
<p></p>
<p>The distillation of the Whitney's new sedateness is &quot;The American Century: Art and Culture 1900-1950,&quot; the first half of a millennial survey scheduled to occupy the entire museum for the next eight months. Drawing heavily on works in the museum's permanent collection, some of which are rarely displayed, Anderson's first attempt at a blockbuster eschews political correctness, offers no historical revisionism, and even includes work by Norman Rockwell without quotation marks. It is a bland, textbook summary of American culture that eschews any explicit judgments at all for fear someone might disagree. Broad surveys don't have to be dull. Robert Hughes' PBS series and book <em>American Visions</em> managed to cover a much longer stretch of artistic waterfront with verve, insight, and erudition. The Whitney show, by contrast, makes no sense out of American art or culture. It merely drowns us in it.</p>
<p></p>
<p>The phrase &quot;the American century&quot; was the coinage of Henry Luce, who in 1941 declared the United States &quot;the intellectual, scientific, and artistic capital of the world.&quot; The first question asked by Anderson in his introduction to the exhibition catalog is whether Luce was right when it came to American art. How does the art created by Americans during the last century stack up against that created by Europeans? But having raised this issue, &quot;The American Century&quot; never gets around to proposing an answer. It's as if such a massive assemblage is supposed to speak for itself. Actually, this exhibition does make a clear statement, but I don't think it's the one intended. The message is: <em>basta</em>!</p>
<p></p>
<p>There are more than 700 works on display here, including not only paintings, drawings, sculptures, and photographs but also sheet music, music playing in the stairwells, clips from movies, movie posters, novels, furniture, design objects, architectural models, and stills from dance programs, plays, operas, and musicals. The Whitney presents this haul chronologically. After finally getting through the line and into the museum, visitors get a brief orientation on the ground floor, take the elevator to the fifth floor, and work their way back down.</p>
<p></p>
<p>By the time they reached the 1930s, on the third floor, most viewers were exhibiting the dead-eyed stares of the Dust Bowl farmers in the Walker Evans and Dorothea Lange photographs on the walls. By Pearl Harbor, it was like Bataan on Madison Avenue. People were collapsing on benches with advanced cases of art prostration. The last section of the exhibition--Abstract Expressionism--was nearly empty, the audience having surrendered. To see this show at a brisk clip--say 30 seconds per object, and ignoring the banal wall text--would require at least four two-hour visits. To curate is to choose, and by failing to do so, the Whitney has abdicated its essential responsibility.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Nor does &quot;The American Century&quot; divide up this motherlode in any thoughtful or even coherent way. The top floor, covering the first two decades of the century, begins with works that 19<sup>th</sup>-century types, such as Thomas Eakins, John Singer Sargent, and Augustus Saint-Gaudens, happened to produce after 1900. It ends with Man Ray and Marcel Duchamp, never having given you much sense of how the vast distance from Point A to Point B was covered. While the 1920s (the fourth floor) do stand as a plausibly distinct &quot;era&quot; in American culture, the 1930s (third floor) and the 1940s (second floor) don't. The various forms of politically driven realism that flourished during the Depression continued to dominate American art through the end of World War II. And the New York School of abstraction, which became predominant after the war, was near its apex, not its end, by the arbitrary cutoff date of 1950. If you're going to bundle art into packages, they should at least be tidy. And what's the sense of imposing a rigid and arbitrary deadline on the exhibition and then decorating the cover of the $60 catalog with one of Jasper Johns' flag paintings from 1958?</p>
<p></p>
<p>By shoveling so much in, Barbara Haskell, the Whitney curator who put together the exhibition, seems to be trying to build a case that American art in the first half of the 20<sup>th</sup> century was up to the standard of European art. But for me, the exhibition vindicated the conventional view that American art can't hold a candle to what was happening overseas until after World War II. When you look at the early American modernists such as Marsden Hartley, Arthur Dove, John Marin, and Joseph Stella, you see inventive and delightful things. But you can't compare these guys to their European contemporaries, such as Pablo Picasso, Georges Braque, Henri Matisse, Piet Mondrian, Amedeo Modigliani, Gustav Klimt, Egon Schiele, Wassily Kandinsky, or Kasimir Malevich. Or maybe you can, but the Whitney doesn't try. It is content to examine the American modernists in relation to their far less interesting domestic contemporaries and a broad cultural context that seems mostly irrelevant to their work. This approach may not make you homesick for the tendentiousness of the old Whitney. But it's an only slightly preferable alternative.</p>
<p></p>
<p>So, what should the Whitney have done for the millennium? I'm not sure a modern art museum needs to celebrate the 2,000<sup>th</sup> anniversary of Jesus at all. But one better possibility would have been a real examination of how the century in art did finally turn American by way of various attempts to absorb European influences without being smothered by them. The raw material for that show is all here. Walking through the galleries, you glimpse a series of moments when an art both new and distinctly American appears. One was around 1915, when Paul Strand, Morton Schamberg, and Charles Sheeler rejected the gauzy pictorialism of Alfred Stieglitz for a cubist-inspired photography that also had a documentary purpose. Another, related, bright spot was the 1920s' movement that has come to be called Precisionism, which celebrated American industrialism as a new religion (Sheeler called one of his paintings of Henry Ford's River Rouge plant <em>My Egypt</em>). And, finally, the greatest and most distinctively American modern school was Abstract Expressionism, which blossomed after World War II and is snipped in mid-bloom by the end of the exhibition.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Another way to do it would have been a look at the Whitney itself. Such a show might have opened with the same Robert Henri portrait of Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney included here and brought many of the same paintings she collected out of the vault for a fresh look. But such a show would have meant the museum taking a hard look at its own, often controversial part in the art world. And I don't get the sense that's something the Whitney, or its conciliatory new director, is very eager to do.</p>Sun, 02 May 1999 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/05/the_whitney_on_prozac.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-05-02T07:30:00ZA once outrageous art museum gets way too mellow.TechnologyThe Whitney on Prozac26396Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/26396falsefalsefalseThe Whitney on ProzacThe Whitney on ProzacLondon Callinghttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/04/london_calling.html
<p> On Broadway, where distinguished American writers complain that it's nearly impossible to get their plays produced, the British dramatist David Hare has opened no fewer than four in the past 12 months. Last spring, Hare's play about Oscar Wilde, <em>The Judas Kiss</em>, came from London. It was followed this winter by his adaptation <em>The Blue Room</em>, which made the cover of <em>Newsweek</em> on the backside, as it were, of Nicole Kidman. At the moment, Hare occupies two stages in New York. <em>Amy's View</em>, starring Judi Dench, is playing to full houses at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre, while Hare himself is performing a monologue about Israel, <em>Via Dolorosa</em>, at the Booth Theatre.</p>
<p></p>
<p>It shouldn't come as any surprise that American audiences have a taste for British drama. Stage envy is a well-trod Anglophilic path, which has in the last few years widened into a mostly one-way superhighway stretching from London's West End to the New York Theater District. Current productions that have breezed down it include <em>The Weir</em>, by the young Irish playwright Conor McPherson, and <em>Closer</em>, by Patrick Marber. Lately, we Americans even seem more interested in our own playwrights when we see them reflected back at us by the Brits. Revivals of Tennessee Williams' early work <em>Not About Nightingales</em> and Eugene O'Neill's <em>The Iceman Cometh</em>, starring Kevin Spacey, are both English imports. In a recent discussion in the Sunday &quot;Arts &amp; Leisure&quot; section, three <em>New York Times</em> drama critics discussed this phenomenon. Basically, they all concluded that British is better.</p>
<p></p>
<p>But Hare, who now dominates Broadway in a way Tom Stoppard never has, may illustrate a somewhat different phenomenon. There is, of course, an element of Anglomania in his success here. But I think it may also speak to something more interesting. Hare feeds an appetite for a theater engaged with society, which our domestic dramatic economy isn't satisfying at the moment. He is in almost every way an old-fashioned playwright, who uses dramatic form to amplify questions of politics, religion, society, and relations between the sexes. And while I think that even Hare's best work falls short of greatness, the combination of his seriousness and his success bode well for theater as a form on both sides of the Atlantic.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Hare's early work has the reputation for being left-wing agitprop. In fact, while less skillful than his later efforts, his early plays are not mere polemics. Hare's first produced play, <em>Slag</em> (1970), is a kind of dystopian fantasy about radical feminism, in which the attempt to run a girls' school dissolves into absurd infighting. It is true that the author's Labor Party socialism originally took the not-very-novel form of negative portrayals of establishment institutions and the residue of British imperialism. But what soon began to distinguish him from a lot of his like-minded contemporaries were a low-key wit and an ability to write memorable roles for women. Hare's first play to open at the National Theatre in London in 1978 (and currently being revived there) was <em>Plenty</em>, later made into a film with Meryl Streep. Streep plays the role of Susan Traherne, a woman who works undercover in France during World War II and subsequently finds herself unable to cope with postwar British life. Despite her craziness, we see that she has a point.</p>
<p></p>
<p>His radicalism mellowed with time and success. Where once he proposed a debate between between socialism and capitalism, between the Third World and the First as in <em>Map of the World</em> (1983), Hare's later plays posit a subtler conflict over personal and political values. The first time he really demonstrated this maturity was in <em>The Secret Rapture</em> (1988), a work Hare himself has pointed to as an important departure. It's about two sisters who have to deal with the messy legacy of their departed father. One is generous and impractical. The other is ruthless and self-interested in a Thatcherite vein but nonetheless sympathetic in the end. Frank Rich, then the lead drama critic for the <em>New York Times</em>, who liked the play when it debuted in London, wrote a harsh review of the New York production and especially of the performance by the author's then-girlfriend Blair Brown. An embittered Hare pledged not to bring another play to New York until Rich stopped reviewing.</p>
<p></p>
<p>In following years, Hare became more interested in the soul of Britain under Thatcherism. In the early 1990s, he wrote a trilogy of &quot;State of the Nation&quot; plays: <em>Racing Demon</em>, about the Church of England, <em>Murmuring Judges</em>, about the legal system, and <em>The Absence of War</em>, about the Labor Party. All opened to acclaim at the National Theatre and provoked national debate in Britain. <em>Racing Demon,</em> a play about Anglican priests, even came to New York once Rich moved on. Why, you have to ask, is it so seldom that important-seeming American plays address societal issues such as these? You might start with the fact that the United States, unlike Britain, has no centralized national theater, either literally or figuratively. What occurs on the New York stage doesn't resonate around the country, or even down the Amtrak corridor to Washington. And you might add that the political interests of American playwrights tend to revolve more around issues of identity and less around national institutions.</p>
<p></p>
<p>We also have a different kind of theatrical tradition, which is less talky and intellectualized than the British one. The playwright whom Hare harks back to most directly is George Bernard Shaw. Though his wit is not of Shavian sharpness, his plays are in another sense more sophisticated. Where Shaw's characters tend to represent views pitted against each other, Hare's cannot resist becoming genuine characters--contradictory, quirky, and imperfect both as heroes and villains. The play where one sees this most clearly is <em>Skylight</em> (1995), for my money his most successful work. It's the classic Hare setup, a collision between two people who see life differently but are nonetheless connected: a successful Thatcher-era businessman and his former mistress, a schoolteacher in London's East End. You know where Hare comes down in the debate between their values. But the play does not exist for one character's worldview to vanquish the other's. Both are by turns persuasive, flawed, and poignant.</p>
<p></p>
<p>The recent offerings on Broadway show not only Hare's gift for the exposition of issues but also his limitations. <em>The Blue Room</em>, which I saw in its London production last fall, was probably the weakest of the bunch. Arthur Schnitzler's original play, <em>La Ronde</em>, was a scandalous-for-its-time depiction of empty sexual promiscuity--so scandalous it wasn't meant to be performed. But with the shock value lost, the play needed something more than Hare's topical amendments added. His adaptation didn't provide much food for thought, which is unusual for him. A bit of hackwork, it suggested that he might be spreading himself too thin.</p>
<p> V <em>ia Dolorosa</em>, which I also saw in London, is more stimulating (intellectually), but only a bit. Based on a visit to Israel, it's journalism by other means of the sort that Anna Deveare Smith has done so brilliantly. But Hare is no Smith. His performance adds little to his script, and his script adds little to the subject, arriving mostly at familiar platitudes about Israel. Nonetheless, one has to admire his guts for trying to entertain an audience single-handedly with a talk about Middle East politics, no less. And the work is somewhat interesting despite its inherent limitations. We see how Hare can turn even a monologue into a kind of dialogue of perspectives, as he pits the passionate commitment of West Bank settlers against the humanism of the Israeli culturati. &quot;Are we where we live or what we think?&quot; he asks at the end of the play. &quot;What matters? Stones or Ideas?&quot;</p>
<p></p>
<p><em>Amy's View</em>, the best of the recent works to show up here, is a more familiar and successful exercise. It is a play with clear imperfections, such as an excessively shrill third act. But one forgives such flaws because of the way Hare draws his audience into the play's issues. Here the debate he sets up is a three-way among mother, daughter, and the daughter's boyfriend. Esme, played by Judi Dench, is an actress who lives for the theater. Her daughter, one of Hare's ethereal women a little too good for this world, lives for love. The daughter's boyfriend, Dominic, is a cynic who lives only for himself.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Within this conflict of values is a clash about art. Dominic, a director of exploitative films and television, contends that the theater is a dead form. Esme stands in for the continued vitality of the stage. The final act finds her having lost everything--her home, her financial independence, and her daughter--but performing brilliantly in a new play that she describes as &quot;sincere.&quot; We see her failings redeemed through commitment to her craft. The same might justly be said of the man who wrote the play.</p>Sun, 25 Apr 1999 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/04/london_calling.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-04-25T07:30:00ZHow David Hare took Broadway.TechnologyLondon Calling25825Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/25825falsefalsefalseLondon CallingLondon CallingDOS Capitalismhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/04/dos_capitalism.html
<p> Writers have long sought metaphors to capture the conflict of new and old worlds. Henry Adams posited an antithesis between the Dynamo and the Virgin--the mysterious electrical generators he saw at the Great Exhibition of 1900 and the religious devotion that built Chartres Cathedral. Adams saw the new technological forces of a century ago as awe-inspiring, destructive, and almost beyond comprehension. His opposition has been revised many times since. Recently, for instance, the political scientist Benjamin Barber described the contest as &quot;Jihad vs. McWorld.&quot; As one may gather from his terms, Barber is hardly enamored of either globalism or tribalism, the modernizing principle or the medievalizing one. Both, in his view, undermine the viability of participatory democracy.</p>
<p>The newest entrant in this contest of symbols is Thomas L. Friedman, the foreign affairs columnist of the <em>New York Times</em>, who offers a somewhat sunnier pair in his new book, <em>The Lexus and the Olive Tree</em>. The Lexus, a luxury car made mostly by robots in a state-of-the-art Japanese factory, stands for progress--&quot;all the anonymous, transnational, homogenizing, standardizing market forces and technologies that make up today's globalizing economic system,&quot; as he puts it. The olive tree, which grows in the Middle East, where Friedman was stationed for several years as a correspondent for the <em>Times</em>, stands for nationalism, religion, tribe, community--gnarled, rooted things that cling to the soil. Friedman believes that the clash between these two principles defines the post-Cold War era in international relations. &quot;The Lexus and olive tree [are] wrestling with each other in the new system of globalization,&quot; as he puts it, energetically compounding his metaphor.</p>
<p>Friedman is a Lexus man himself--he lets it be known that he drives one of these sublime sedans around the Washington suburb where he lives, when he's not trading Internet stocks on the Internet, communicating with CEOs by cell phone, or eating a Big Mac in some far-flung capital. He avers that he respects olive trees and aspires to preserve as many as possible but that there's no stopping, or even slowing, technological advancement, market integration, or American cultural hegemony.</p>
<p>His point of view is that of the Treasury Department, the <em>Economist</em>, and the Davos World Economic Forum. Capital now moves swiftly and freely around the globe--a phenomenon Friedman calls, in one of his catchier coinages, an &quot;electronic herd.&quot; Because this herd can stampede at will, if not at whim, developing nations, now known as &quot;emerging markets,&quot; no longer have much discretion about which economic policies to pursue. If your country lacks a capitalist-friendly financial structure with a convertible currency, &quot;transparency&quot; of information, and protections for private property, First World investment money will simply go elsewhere. As the leader of a country, you can choose to conform to international economic norms or you can choose to be poor. Friedman makes this point various ways, saying it, quoting others saying it, and quoting himself saying it to others. He calls this dilemma &quot;the golden straightjacket.&quot;</p>
<p>But rather than consider whether we should be altogether pleased that the entire world seems to be converging upon the same economic model, Friedman simply declares it a nonissue. The integrated world market is coming, no one can do anything about it, so the question of how we like it is irrelevant. You might call Friedman's foreign policy market realism. Capitalism, not liberal democracy, emerged triumphant from the Cold War. And though a free economy tends to open up a society over time, growth and democracy aren't necessarily connected in the short term. To Friedman's way of thinking, the question of whether a government has elected leaders or respects human rights has far less effect on its immediate prosperity than the question of whether it listens to the International Monetary Fund. Russia and India, which have something resembling free elections, are stagnating because they refuse to liberalize their economies. China, which has a thriving capitalist economy but doesn't have free elections, survived the Asian economic crisis largely unscathed.</p>
<p>The problem with Friedman's book is not that he's wrong about economics or international relations. I think he's largely right, though as I'll argue in a minute, he overstates the ease with which the Lexus and the olive tree can happily coexist. The problem is that he has distilled the conventional wisdom of the enlightened financier circa 1999 without adding much thinking of his own. Financial metaphors running away with him, Friedman describes his journalistic method as &quot;information arbitrage.&quot; He sees himself acquiring knowledge at wholesale from the top diplomats, hedge fund managers, and central bankers to whom his <em>Times</em> column grants him access, and selling at retail to general readers. Reporting on things seen and heard while globe-trotting, with a bit of opinion thrown in, works well in Friedman's biweekly <em>Times</em> column, but a book needs to do more than endorse the wisdom of others--especially if the wisdom is as familiar and widely accepted as that of Robert Hormats of Goldman Sachs and Lawrence Summers of the Treasury Department. The fact that Friedman agrees with these guys is no excuse for neglecting challenges from such skeptics as George Soros, Jeffrey Sachs, Paul Krugman, or the aforementioned Barber, none of whose views he considers.</p>
<p>A subsidiary fault is rhetorical hyperventilation. The less Frieidman has to say of his own, the more he relies on slogans and strained neologisms. Countries, he tells us, have economic operating systems of different degrees of sophistication, which he dubs DOScaptial 1.0, 2.0, etc. &quot;Globalution&quot; is the way the &quot;electronic herd&quot; creates pressure for democracy. &quot;Glocalism&quot; is a culture's ability to profit from what's good about other cultures without soaking up what's bad. Backward countries and companies suffer from &quot;Microchip Immune Deficiency&quot; or MIDS. At times, Friedman manages to sound like Jesse Jackson at a rally. &quot;The United States can destroy you by dropping bombs and the Supermarkets can destroy you by downgrading your bonds,&quot; he writes.</p>
<p>This penchant for Toffleresque gimmickry finally gets the better of him in the chapter titled &quot;The Golden Arches Theory of Conflict Prevention.&quot; Friedman's &quot;insight,&quot; as he calls it, is that &quot;no two countries that both had McDonald's had fought a war against each other since each got its McDonald's.&quot; A variation on the theory that democracies don't go to war with each other, the golden arches hypothesis was proved false even before his book's publication date by the war between NATO and Serbia (where the Belgrade McDonald's franchises were promptly vandalized). An ethnic and territorial conflict that doesn't have much to do with globalization at all, the war in Kosovo defies Friedman's notion that international relations is now an extension of international economics.</p>
<p>As an evangelist for globalization, Friedman is intent on demonstrating that it's compatible with a respect for identity and tradition, that olive trees can grow next to Lexi. His Clintonian instincts tell him that any difficult choice must be a false choice. His happy-go-yuppie sensibility tells him that we can have our cake and eat it too, that technology can uphold tradition instead of undermining it. Thus Friedman spills over with hopeful juxtapositions garnered on his travels. He describes Muslims on a flight from Bahrain using the plane's global positioning system to pray toward Mecca, Kuwaiti feminists in veils and on the Internet, Kayapo Indians in a hut in the Brazilian rain forest watching soccer and monitoring the value of their gold-extraction rights on a satellite TV. This last example Friedman describes as &quot;Lexus and olive tree in healthy balance.&quot;</p>
<p>Friedman is almost certainly correct in his belief that globalization is likely to make life better for people in remote places. But it won't do it while preserving their local cultures. It will do it by partially or completely obliterating them. That's what market capitalism does. It uproots and homogenizes as it enriches--like a Ronco appliance, as Friedman might say. I don't know anything about the Kayapos, but I'd wager that if they keep watching that satellite TV, they won't be in loin cloths and huts the next time the foreign affairs columnist of the <em>New York Times</em> helicopters in for a visit.</p>Sun, 18 Apr 1999 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/04/dos_capitalism.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-04-18T07:30:00ZThomas Friedman embraces the forces of globalization.TechnologyDOS Capitalism25365Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/25365falsefalsefalseDOS CapitalismDOS CapitalismI Like Mikehttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/04/i_like_mike.html
<p> When Richard J. Daley was alive and mayor of Chicago, no one gave him a harder time than Mike Royko did. Maybe the funniest piece Rokyo ever wrote was an extended parody of one of Daley's frequent solecisms. Daley, responding to his critics, once uttered the phrase &quot;Like a guy said a long time ago: 'He who hasn't sinned, pick up the first stone.' &quot; Royko riffed on this through an entire column, as in:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Moses, leading the Israelites out of Egypt: &quot;Let's get out of here.&quot;</p>
<p>Ahab, sighting the Great White Whale: &quot;Let's all get that fish.&quot;</p>
<p>Douglas MacArthur. leaving the Philippines in 1942: &quot;Let's all come back here some time.&quot;</p>
</blockquote>
<p></p>
<p>In a less madcap vein, Rokyo wrote <em>Boss</em>, a devastating portrait of the Daley machine and probably the best book ever written about city politics.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Yet when Daley dropped dead of a heart attack in 1976, Royko sat down at his typewriter and banged out a column that was both an interpretation and an appreciation. Daley's abuse of the English language didn't offend people who weren't &quot;that far removed from parents and grandparents who knew only bits and pieces of the language,&quot; Royko wrote. The mayor's abuse of power didn't bother those who had lived through far worse: &quot;The people who came here in Daley's lifetime were accustomed to someone wielding power like a club, be it a czar, emperor, king, or rural sheriff,&quot; Royko noted. &quot;The niceties of the democratic process weren't part of the immigrant experiences. So if the Machine muscle offended some, it seemed like old times to many more.&quot; It's hard to imagine a political scientist--or any other journalist for that matter--framing it so simply, or so well.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Reading these gems in the new posthumous selection, <em>One More Time: The Best of Mike Royko</em>, I found myself wondering: Why doesn't anyone write a newspaper column this good anymore? Royko wasn't quite a Twain, or a Mencken, but his writing was distinctive and memorable and in its time the closest thing to lasting literature in a daily paper. Royko could make you laugh and make you think, stir outrage at a heartless bureaucrat, or bring a tear to the eye when he flashed a glimpse of the heart hidden beneath his hard shell.</p>
<p></p>
<p>He performed this range of feats with a regularity and prominence that no city columnist, or any national one, can match today. Royko wrote his 900 words five times a week, sometimes six. Today the columnist who writes something decent twice a week is a marvel. For the better part of 34 years, everyone in Chicago read him, first in the <em>Daily News</em>, then in the <em>Sun-Times</em> after the <em>Daily News</em> closed, then in the <em>Tribune</em> after Rupert Murdoch bought the <em>Sun-Times.</em> (Even after Royko said that no self-respecting fish would be wrapped in a Murdoch paper, &quot;the Alien&quot; refused to accept his resignation and kept reprinting his old columns. This led Royko to write: &quot;In Alien's Tongue, 'I Quit' is 'Vacation.' &quot;) Royko's fame spread nationally despite the fact that he seldom left Chicago and refused to do television. By the time he died in 1997, he was syndicated in 600 papers around the country.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Royko's hold came in part from his sense of place. He grew up in the Polish neighborhood on the northwest side of Chicago that Nelson Algren captured in one of Royko's favorite books, <em>The Neon Wilderness</em>, and he never left it in spirit. Royko's father was a milkman, and the family lived over a tavern. Before finding his way into journalism, Royko already had experience &quot;setting bowling pins, working on a landscape crew, in a greasy machine shop, and in a lamp factory and pushing carts around a department store,&quot; as he noted in 1990. When he said he became a writer because it was easier on the feet, he half meant it. To his working class and working-class-once-removed readers, Royko was, like Daley, &quot;one of us.&quot;</p>
<p></p>
<p>But where Daley often drew on the worst side of ethnic Chicago--its tolerance of corruption, its parochialism and racial prejudice--Royko spoke to its better instincts. A neighborhood populist, he celebrated the corner tavern and the weekend softball game. But Royko also challenged white Chicago's prejudices, skewering bigots who tried to keep a white couple that had adopted a black baby out of their neighborhood or a funeral parlor that didn't want to bury a black soldier killed in Vietnam. In the column he wrote the day after Harold Washington became the first black person elected mayor of Chicago, Royko began with one of his inimitable openings, &quot;So I told Uncle Chester: Don't worry, Harold Washington doesn't want to marry your sister.&quot;</p>
<p></p>
<p>Of course, Uncle Chester, along with Slats Grobnik and Aunt Wanda, didn't really exist. I'm sure that Sam Sianis, the proprietor of Royko's beloved Billy Goat Tavern, didn't say many of the things Royko attributed to him. I'm not sure how many of Royko's readers understood that much of what he wrote was facetious or fictionalized. These days, newspaper writers are no longer allowed the kind of license he took. As journalism has become less of a trade and more of a profession, once common vices like embellishment, plagiarism, and binge drinking have ceased to be regarded as charming. Mike Barnicle, a second-rate Roykoesque columnist, was fired from the <em>Boston Globe</em> for blending fiction and fact in a way that Royko did routinely.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Nor is it possible for a newspaper writer now to be as blunt as Royko was. In 1990, the University of Missouri School of Journalism released a list of words for journalists to avoid, including such terms as gorgeous, lazy, sweetie, and fried chicken. &quot;Fried chicken, fried chicken, fried chicken. I said it and I'm glad. Sue me,&quot; Royko wrote. His refusal to be sensitive got him in trouble in 1996, the year before he died. In a column lampooning Pat Buchanan, Royko wrote that Mexico was a useless country that should be invaded and turned over to Club Med. By then, Royko's tone had grown increasingly bitter and his irony was easy to miss. The result was an enormous protest outside the <em>Tribune</em> by Hispanic groups that took his comments literally and demanded that he be fired.</p>
<p></p>
<p>If journalism has changed since Royko's heyday, so too have cities like Chicago. White ethnics have ceased to be the dominant force in urban life. In 1981, when Royko moved to a condominium in a lakefront high-rise, he cast himself as a bungalow-bred Margaret Mead, studying yuppies by living among them. But yuppies--or at least the suburbanized offspring of Slats Grobnik--were increasingly his audience and his newsroom colleagues. Royko saw himself as more and more of an anachronism. Before he died, he quit drinking and unhappily moved to the suburbs.</p>
<p></p>
<p>So why don't we have newspaper columnists as good as him anymore? To summarize: We no longer have his kind of newspaper. We no longer have his kind of city. But mainly, we don't have another Mike Royko--a newspaper writer grounded in a place like Chicago, with a gift for explaining it to the world, and the world to it.</p>Sun, 11 Apr 1999 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/04/i_like_mike.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-04-11T07:30:00ZWhy Royko of Chicago was our greatest columnist.TechnologyI Like Mike23389Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/23389falsefalsefalseI Like MikeI Like MikeEdifice Rexhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/04/edifice_rex.html
<p> This week, The Browser takes a walk around Chicago's Loop with two architectural historians in search of an answer to the question: Why are Chicago's tall buildings so much more distinguished than New York City's? Click <u><a href="http://www.slate.msn.com/Features/ChicagoArchitecture/Chicago_FRAMESET.htm">here</a></u> to begin the tour. Click <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/22953">here</a> for the text-only version.</p>Sun, 04 Apr 1999 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/04/edifice_rex.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-04-04T07:30:00ZWhy Chicago is America's great architecture city.TechnologyEdifice Rex22952Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/22952falsefalsefalseEdifice RexEdifice RexHigh School Confidentialhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/03/high_school_confidential.html
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<p>It's no fun being a highbrow if you don't sometimes swing low. I know an expert in 19<sup>th</sup> century English history who devours mystery novels by the shopping bag load, a prominent intellectual journalist who loves Bruce Willis shoot'em-ups, and a <strong><em>Slate</em></strong> editor who admits to being hooked on <em>Felicity</em>. In this context, I am prepared to admit an entertainment vice of my own: the teen flick. This is a genre that flourished in the mid-1980s, then fell into abeyance for a number of years, and is now, I am happy to report, experiencing a modest renaissance.</p>
<p></p>
<p>The new rash of teen movies seems heavily skewed toward quasi-remakes of the classics. The genre revived in 1995 with <em>Clueless</em>, which was based on Jane Austen's <em>Emma</em>. <em>Cruel Intentions</em> is the zillionth adaptation of the 18<sup>th</sup> century French novel <em>Les Liaisons Dangereuses</em>. <em>She's All That</em> is loosely based on <em>Pretty Woman</em>, which was loosely based on <em>My Fair Lady</em>, which was based on George Bernard Shaw's <em>Pygmalion</em>. Arriving at multiplexes in the next few months will be <em>O</em>, a version of <em>Othello</em> set against a backdrop of high-school sports, and <em>10 Things I Hate About You</em>, an adaptation of <em>The Taming of the Shrew</em>.</p>
<p></p>
<p>But it would be wrong to think of these films as classic comics for the Clearasil set. Most of them are movies that utilize classic plots as new ways to frame their exploration into what it's like to be an American teen-ager. At their best, these films immerse you once again in all the joys and anxieties of adolescence. To me, they are the quintessential good bad movies, because while seldom subtle or artful, they are capable of recreating a familiar and utterly compelling world.</p>
<p> <a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/archive/media/2001/10/21000_21735_sixteencandles.mov">16</a> The first teen movies were made in the 1950s, but the genre was largely codified by screenwriter, director, and producer John Hughes, who drew on his experiences at a large suburban Chicago high school in the 1960s in a series of movies made in the 1980s. The first film Hughes directed was the romantic comedy <em>Sixteen Candles</em> (1984). Molly Ringwald plays a quirky, intelligent sophomore who wakes up to discover that everyone in her family has forgotten her birthday. Insult is piled on injury as she confronts her so-called life. In the clip available at right, she faces the daily indignity of the school bus. The plot winds and unwinds a mismatch of affections. The freshman geek with braces, Anthony Michael Hall, has crush on Ringwald. Ringwald has a crush on a cute senior who is dating the feathered blond prom queen. The film has all the commonplaces of the genre--the party that utterly trashes someone's parents' house, the voyeuristic visit to the girl's locker room, the guys betting about getting laid, and the happy comic resolution: The geek beds the prom queen, Ringwald lands the cute senior.</p>
<p></p>
<p>S<em>ixteen Candles</em> is awful in some ways. A racist subplot revolves around a Chinese exchange student called Long Duk Dong. Yet the movie sets up the basic theme of Hughes' subsequent--and I would maintain all successful--teen movies, which is to overthrow the stereotypes that comprise the basis of adolescent identity. The basic insight of the Hughes films is that high school is built around a caste/class system, which is basically vicious and unfair. Like his subsequent movies, <em>Sixteen</em><em>Candles</em> is essentially a fantasy about throwing out this system: The excluded are included and the exclusionary are either enlightened or humbled. The geeks get to be cool, the cool kids get humbled, the druggies get smart, and the smart kids get stoned.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Hughes handled this theme in a more self-congratulatory and heavy-handed way in <em>The Breakfast Club</em> (1985). This was probably the most famous of the '80s teen flicks, launching as it did the careers of several of the &quot;Brat Pack&quot; actors--including Emilio Estevez, Judd Nelson, and Ally Sheedy. Five different types--a geek, a richie, a screw-up, a jock, and a sullen arty girl--are forced to spend a Saturday in detention considering who they are. This is my least favorite of the Hughes films, because it's a moral lesson with flashes of humor. Hughes' best films are romantic comedies informed by good values.</p>
<p> H appily, <a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/archive/media/2001/10/21000_21736_somekindofwonderful.mov">Some</a> he returned to form in 1986 with <em>Pretty in Pink</em>, which was stylistically the best of the lot. This time Ringwald plays a sweet girl from the wrong side of the tracks who has to choose between the richie, played by Andrew McCarthy, and her loyal pal Duckie, played by Jon Cryer. <em>Pretty in Pink</em> is tragically marred by the wrong ending: Ringwald walks into the sunset with the preppie rich kid. But Hughes must have realized his mistake, because the next year he essentially rewrote it as <em>Some Kind of Wonderful</em>. The quirky and talented poor kid, played by Eric Stoltz, has a crush on the prom queen, which breaks the heart of the orphan girl (!) who has been secretly infatuated with him for years. Check out the clip available at right for the scene in which Stoltz makes the right choice.</p>
<p> <a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/archive/media/2001/10/21000_21737_sayanything.mov">Say</a> The male Molly Ringwald was John Cusack, who started his career with a minor role in <em>Sixteen Candles.</em> The second coming of John Hughes was the writer and director Cameron Crowe, who cast Cusack in <em>Say Anything</em>..., a funnier and more touching John Hughes movie than Hughes ever made. Cusack plays the funny kid from a broken home who crushes on the A-student valedictorian played by Ione Skye. In the clip available at right, Cusack answers her dad's question about what he plans to do with his life after high school.</p>
<p> A t the <a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/archive/media/2001/10/21000_21738_heathers.mov">Heathers</a> end of the 1980s, teen films took a darker turn with the black comedy <em>Heathers</em>. The three popular girls, who all have the same name, take up Veronica (Winona Ryder), who can't resist the offer of inclusion but detests their values (they make her ignore her old friends and play cruel practical jokes on losers). Only this time, instead of humiliating the jocks and cheerleaders, Ryder and her boyfriend, played by Christian Slater, kill them. View the clip available at left to see them off the first Heather. As black as it is, <em>Heathers</em> has the same theme as the Ringwald/Cusack movies. It's a fantasy about high school as a kind rather than a cruel place. Ryder realizes that murder is not the right approach and offers to spend prom night with the fat girl everyone abuses.</p>
<p></p>
<p>What makes these teen flicks the ideal good bad movies? The first is the familiarity of the world they portray. Not everyone in America goes to a big public high school, but everyone goes to a high school governed by a hierarchy of popularity and cliques. Films set at college are never as universally recognizable, because people's experiences after high school are too different to generalize about. Universities, unlike high schools, are not unitary social structures. The second essential quality of these films is that they are all, basically, the same. The formula allows one to savor minor differences and adaptations.</p>
<p></p>
<p>For some reason, teen flicks died out for a while after <em>Heathers</em>--perhaps because it took the conventions of the form as far as they could go. Then, following the success of <em>Clueless</em>, teen films started to trickle back. The trickle has suddenly become a torrent. The economics are easy enough to understand, lacking major stars, these movies are inexpensive to make and draw the ideal audiences: teens who are capable of seeing <em>Titanic</em> 17 times. <em>She's All That</em> was made for a $10 million budget and has already grossed nearly $60 million.</p>
<p></p>
<p>What's different about the late 1990s' version? Teen films no longer glorify drug use, but other than that, very little. As the genre has expanded, it has broken into sub-genres. There's the black <em>Heathers</em> category , the most recent exercise being the reportedly awful <em>Jawbreaker</em>. There's the self-referential horror category as manifest in the <em>Scream</em> movies. There's a <em>Masterpiece Theatre</em> for juniors category that started with the delightful Baz Luhrmann version of <em>Romeo + Juliet</em> with Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes.</p>
<p></p>
<p>But the reigning champ is still the Hughesesque romance, the most recent example of which is <em>She's All That</em>. The heroine is an artist from a broken home whose father cleans swimming pools. The most perfect boy in her school, who dates the most popular bitch, makes a bet with his best friend that he can transform the ugly duckling into the prom queen. Of course, the perfect boy ends up ditching his snobby clique and falling in love with her. Even the racy <em>Cruel Intentions</em>, set among rich Upper East Side kids, is a spin on the old Hughes formula. The evil super-rich girl makes a diabolical bet with her stepbrother that he can't corrupt the new girl at school. The stepbrother falls for the good girl and the wicked stepsister is humiliated in front of everyone.</p>
<p></p>
<p>These films have been derided as &quot;teensploitation,&quot; but I don't think the description is fair. Instead of pandering to the prejudices of teens, they offer a fantasy about a freer and happier adolescence. Their message is that there's life beyond high school, kids aren't bound by what adults want from them, how their peers think of them, or the ways in which they categorize themselves. All Hollywood films are exploitative to some extent. But I'd say a sweet, dumb movie such as <em>She's All That</em> is a lot less insulting to teen intelligence, and to the average adult one, than <em>Patch Adams</em> or <em>Message in a Bottle</em>.</p>Sun, 14 Mar 1999 08:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/03/high_school_confidential.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-03-14T08:30:00ZThe eternal appeal of teen movies.TechnologyHigh School Confidential21663Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/21663falsefalsefalseHigh School ConfidentialHigh School ConfidentialHard Core Goes Softhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/03/hard_core_goes_soft.html
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<p>A few years ago, when debates over the fate of &quot;Western Civ&quot; requirements raged at Stanford and elsewhere, traditionalists often pointed to the University of Chicago as the school where the old ideals of liberal education remained the most intact. Now that bastion of tradition is itself under attack, not by deconstructionists and postmodernists but by economists and accountants.</p>
<p></p>
<p>The turmoil is over a proposal to transform the old &quot;Common Core&quot; curriculum, some version of which has been in place since the 1930s, into the so-called &quot;Chicago Plan.&quot; The university administration wants to reduce the number of required courses in the humanities, sciences, and social sciences from 21 to 15 and to remove a longstanding foreign language requirement. Students, faculty, and alumni who object to this change are also up in arms about a plan to expand the size of the undergraduate student body by about 20 percent, to 4,500.They further object to efforts to change the school's image from superintellectual to smart but fun. One way this makeover is to be accomplished is by changing the school's handle from the University of Chicago to just &quot;Chicago&quot; (to identify the school with the hit Broadway musical, perhaps).</p>
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<p>I&nbsp;should probably start by declaring my own hypocritical feelings in the matter. I grew up in Chicago (the city) and thought seriously about attending &quot;The University&quot; as it was known in my family, before deciding that it was a bit too cloistered and socially claustrophobic for my taste. Instead, I went to a big-name Ivy League university. I suspect that I would have got a superior education at Chicago, but I'm still glad I didn't go there, both because college is partly about leaving home and because I think it would have been too hard and not enjoyable enough. Having rejected Chicago in part for the reasons that its officials are worried about, I can't easily argue that they're being absurd.</p>
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<p>On the other hand, my instinctive sympathies are entirely with the alumni who are withholding contributions until their alma mater quits threatening to loosen up. What was best about the undergraduate education I subsequently got at Yale was what was done in imitation of Chicago--a freshman year Great Books program, structured around discussion in small seminars. I think it's important that the beacon of that kind of liberal education continue to exist, even though I didn't--and still probably wouldn't--choose that education for myself. My old boss at the <em>New Republic</em>, Marty Peretz, used to say he wanted to found an organization called Jews for Hard-Line Christianity. Mine would be Nonalumni Against Changing the University of Chicago.</p>
<p> A s reports about the campus culture wars go, the Chicago story is refreshingly man-bites-dog. Instead of being driven by a bunch of tenured radicals, the dumbing down of Chicago's curriculum is being pushed by the university's Board of Trustees and its president, Hugo Sonnenschein, an economist who casts the need to change as a simple issue of competition. Chicago wants to attract the best students, and those students are offered more &quot;choice&quot; about what to study by other colleges and universities. Opponents of his plans think Sonnenschein, who came from Princeton, misunderstands the culture of the school he runs. One sign was his hiring as one of his vice presidents a marketing specialist from Ford who said cringe-making things about making the university more &quot;fun&quot; until he was driven out a few weeks ago. The leading opponents of reducing the amount of Aristotle, physics, and English composition in the curriculum are liberal professors, students, and alumni, who reject the consumer-market model of education.</p>
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<p>The best argument for change is that it's the only cure for a looming financial problem. Chicago's $2 billion endowment is puny compared to the big Ivy League universities', and it has run a small deficit in some years. The main reason its financial situation is weaker than that of other schools (though hardly desperate) is that Chicago has a much higher proportion of unprofitable graduate students. Undergraduates are the cash cows of higher education, both because they pay tuition and because they later contribute money when they become alumni. The unstated logic of the changes is roughly as follows: To produce more revenue you need more undergraduates. To get more high-quality undergraduates--meaning those with high SAT scores--you need easier course requirements and a more appealing atmosphere.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Chicago's revenues also suffer from the way undergraduates are taught at Chicago--in small, participatory seminars led by full faculty members. It's retail rather than wholesale education and requires more faculty than a lecture-based system. In recent years, the university has been holding larger seminars and using more graduate teaching assistants. Those protesting the Chicago Plan are really objecting as much to what has already happened in this regard as to what's promised.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Chicago hopes to attract more smart kids by becoming an easier school that offers its students less individual attention? This isn't necessarily as nutty at is sounds. Consider Brown, whose undergraduates have a higher average SAT score than those at Chicago, and which gets three times as many applications precisely because it has a reputation for being a blast and lacks any real requirements. The problem with this logic in this situation is that Chicago's whole history, tradition, and reputation are on the other side of this divide. Intellectual intensity is its great--and perhaps sole--selling point. Rebranding the University of Chicago as a &quot;fun&quot; school deserves a place in the annals of marketing lunacy, alongside &quot;Weyerhaeuser: the tree growing company&quot; and the New Coke. It's like trying to sell spinach as a delicious dessert. Chicago will never be fun, except insofar as intellectual stimulation is a species of pleasure.</p>
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<p>That does not, however, condemn it to an inexorable decline. It's not clear that Chicago's financial problem is all that serious. But if it does need to woo more undergraduates, it would probably have better luck emulating Columbia University. Columbia, the university that has the toughest core requirements after Chicago's, is as trendy as Brown--it admits only 17 percent of its applicants, versus 62 percent for Chicago. Of course, Columbia has the advantage of being in New York City instead of in an isolated enclave on the South Side of Chicago. But it also markets the strength of its curriculum. It boasts about its set menu instead of apologizing for not being a cafeteria.</p>
<p> Chicago ought to do the same. What's valuable about Chicago isn't just that it's a high-caliber, difficult school. It's that, in a time of confusion about the ends and means of higher education, it has the clearest and best notion of what constitutes one. This is isn't simply reading the Great Books chosen by Chicago's legendary President Robert Maynard Hutchins and his sidekick Mortimer Adler. It's a commitment to general education--a sequence of courses intended to develop critical thinking in a wide variety of disciplines--in opposition to early specialization. And it's the pedagogic method that Chicago largely invented: small seminars based on original texts and the examination of original works.</p>
<p></p>
<p>As for Chicago not being as selective as its Ivy League rivals are, the administration should quit worrying about it. Part of what's appealing about Chicago is that it's more open and democratic than other comparable elite institutions. Unconventionally gifted kids, who didn't get top grades in high school or who don't have perfect SAT scores, stand a better chance than they do elsewhere of getting in--and of being presented with the highest level of intellectual challenge. People at Chicago like to say that it's harder to get into Harvard but harder to get out of Chicago. This makes it one of the few possible end runs around the meritocratic-credentialing complex, whereby standardized test scores determine future opportunities. Chicago has resisted institutional peer pressure for 50 years. It would be a shame to see it finally give in and become more like everywhere else.</p>Sun, 07 Mar 1999 08:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/03/hard_core_goes_soft.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-03-07T08:30:00ZMust the University of Chicago loosen up?TechnologyHard Core Goes Soft21210Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/21210falsefalsefalseHard Core Goes SoftHard Core Goes SoftMatisse vs. Picassohttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/02/matisse_vs_picasso.html
<p> The relationship between the artists Henri Matisse and Pablo Picasso is the subject of a new exhibition at the Kimbell Art Museum in Fort Worth, Texas, called &quot;Matisse and Picasso: A Gentle Rivalry.&quot; The theme of this show, and of the book that accompanies it by the Harvard art historian Yve-Alain Bois, is that the two masters of modern painting were playing a kind of chess game all their lives. Picasso, the younger artist, was constantly trying to get Matisse's attention by showing off, stealing from his work, and rudely parodying him. Matisse, envious of Picasso's success, tried to ignore him until the 1930s when he needed Picasso's influence to bring himself out of an artistic funk. After that they traded paintings, visits, and little notes. But they were too competitive to really be friends.</p>
<p></p>
<p>I don't think Bois takes this implication of this creative tension quite far enough. The Matisse-Picasso rivalry is more than just the great artistic competition of the 20<sup>th</sup> century. It's a scheme for dividing all art into two parts. Side by side, a Matisse and a Picasso can look amazingly similar. Yet at a deeper level, they are fundamentally, radically incompatible. Although it's possible to admire both artists, something impels you to choose sides. At the end of the day, everyone is either a Matisse person or a Picasso person.</p>
<p> M atisse is a cool, calm, Northern European artist. Picasso is a hot, temperamental Spaniard. Matisse famously said that a painting should be like a comfortable armchair. His paintings are harmonious, luxurious, and soothing. Picasso can virtually copy a Matisse tableau without producing anything like the same effect. In his rendition, the same fruit on a pedestal contains an element of dissonance, disturbance, and even violence. Where Matisse is sensuous, Picasso is sexual. Matisse loves fabric. Picasso loves flesh.</p>
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<p>The division seems like a version of the one drawn by Friedrich Nietzsche in <em>The Birth of Tragedy</em> between Apollonian and Dionysian art. The Apollonian comes from the Greek god Apollo, the god of light, who was associated with rationality and its subspecialties law, medicine, and philosophy. The Dionysian comes from Dionysius, the god of wine and fertility, who was worshipped with drunken orgies in the woods at which nonparticipants were ripped to pieces. The Apollonian spirit is one of measure, reason, and control; the Dionysian is one of abandon, irrationality, and ecstatic release. The clash between the two principles was what produced Greek tragedy, according to Nietzsche. That Matisse is essentially an Apollonian artist and Picasso a Dionysian is evident even from the backhanded compliments they paid each other. Matisse called Picasso &quot;capricious and unpredictable.&quot; Picasso described Matisse's paintings as &quot;beautiful and elegant.&quot;</p>
<p> I n dividing all art into two categories, Nietzsche rendered the service of coming up with one of the great intellectual parlor games of all time. Critics love to devise variations for their fields. Richard Martin, the director of the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, divides the world into Giorgio Armani vs. Gianni Versace. Armani, with his serene, muted tones and clean lines, is the Apollonian designer. The late Versace, with his Miami colors, outrageous impracticality, and explicit sexuality, is the Dionysian. And it's true: The models in Armani ads look like Greek statues. In Versace ads, they look like drugged bacchants. The Apollonian spirit is about good taste, elegance, and beauty. The Dionysian mixes bad taste with good taste, pain with pleasure.</p>
<p> You can apply Nietzsche's dichotomy to just about any set of contemporaries or creative rivals. With artists, you might start with Leonardo vs. Michelangelo. Leonardo, the scientific rationalist and inventor, is an Apollonian (his work is owned by, among others, the archrationalist Bill Gates). Michelangelo, though he worked principally in the Apollonian medium of marble, expresses a more animalistic violence and passion (work owned by the pope). Mark Rothko is a Matisse type. Jackson Pollock is a Picasso type. The Beatles, with their well-crafted melodies, are the Apollonians. The Rolling Stones, darker, more subterranean, and with a deeper rhythm section, are more in touch with Dionysius. Only Dionysians have sympathy for the devil. You might like both bands, but ultimately you're with one or the other. You're either a Beatles person or a Stones person, just like you're either a Matisse person or a Picasso person.</p>
<p> I n American literature, Phillip Rahv devised the classic division into two categories in a famous essay titled &quot;Paleface and Redskin.&quot; American writers were either Europeanized, literary wimps like Henry James, or celebrants of the native animalistic spirits, like Mark Twain. The Apollonian line begins with Washington Irving, the Dionysian with James Fenimore Cooper. In the Apollo-Matisse-Armani-Beatles column we find Emily Dickinson. Opposite her, in the Dionysius-Picasso-Versace-Stones column, is Walt Whitman. Nathaniel Hawthorne is a Matisse. Herman Melville is a Picasso. In the 20<sup>th</sup> century, we come to F. Scott Fitzgerald (Matisse) vs. Ernest Hemingway (Picasso) and John Updike (Matisse) vs. Norman Mailer, who wrote a biography of Picasso.</p>
<p> You can, in fact, apply the division to just about any natural pairing and then use that pairing to redivide the world. (Of course you can. Who's going to arrest you?) I've been soliciting examples from family, friends, <strong><em>Slate</em></strong> colleagues, and random New York showoffs. To see some of their nominees,<u></u>. And you can play too: Send suggestions by e-mail to <u><a href="mailto:browser@slate.com">browser@slate.com</a></u>. Check, where we will post reader pairings that meet or surpass our (pretty low) standards.</p>Sun, 28 Feb 1999 08:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/02/matisse_vs_picasso.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-02-28T08:30:00ZYou're either one or the other. Take this test.TechnologyMatisse vs. Picasso20781Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/20781falsefalsefalseMatisse vs. PicassoMatisse vs. PicassoThe Cartoon Closethttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/02/the_cartoon_closet.html
<p> The reaction to the Rev. Jerry Falwell's outing of Tinky Winky, the purple Teletubby, was widespread scorn and hilarity. Comedians and column writers mercilessly ridiculed Falwell for his paranoia in seeing gays under the crib.</p>
<p>Three comments in defense of Falwell: First, he didn't write the article in question, which appeared unsigned in <em>National Liberty Journal</em>, a magazine he publishes. When asked about the charge, Falwell said he had never seen <em>Teletubbies</em> and didn't know whether Tinky Winky was homosexual or not. The notion of Falwell attacking a cartoon character is too appealing to liberal prejudices to be easily abandoned.</p>
<p>Second, if you've ever watched <em>Teletubbies</em>, you might well suspect some kind of subliminal messaging. The four tubbies have aerials coming out of their spacesuit hoods, which receive programming that's broadcast on TV screens in their tummies. As they prance out of their bunker and around the strange, apocalyptic landscape where they live, periscope speakers pop out of the ground and feed them orders. It's both cute and creepy.</p>
<p>Third, the folks at Liberty College apparently got their idea about Tinky Winky not from watching the program but from reading such publications as the <em>Washington Post</em> and <em>People</em>. On Jan. 1, the <em>Post</em> included &quot;TINKY WINKY, THE GAY TELETUBBY&quot; in its annual list of what's &quot;in&quot; for the New Year. No one got excited. The press, including the <em>Post</em>, then mocked Falwell as a reactionary hick obsessed with the sexuality of puppets. Seems like a bit of a trap.</p>
<p>Is Tinky Winky gay? He is not the first cartoon character to be outed. More often than not it is homosexuals who claim a character as one of their own--which also puts the Falwell fuss in perspective. At the level of the creators' stated intentions, the <em>Teletubbies</em> have no sexual orientation. The program tries to recreate the world of toddlers, which does not involve any level of sexual understanding. But TV programs are group products, and it's not impossible that references--Tinky Winky's handbag, his purple triangle antenna, and the tutu he sometimes wears--are bits of code included for the benefit of adults. If Tinky Winky has a bit more spring in his step than Dipsy, the other male tubby, it may be because the actor who originally inhabited his costume added that dimension. Gays in Britain love Tinky Winky, and some protested outside the BBC when the actor who played him was fired.</p>
<p> Sexual signals can be received without being consciously sent. The first cartoon characters to be accused of aberrant sexual practices were Batman and Robin. In a 1954 book titled <em>Seduction of the Innocent</em>, a psychologist named Fred Wertham attacked the sadistic violence and sexual deviance portrayed in comic books. Batman and Robin, he noted, were two men living together who liked to wear capes and tights. Back home at stately Wayne Manor, they lounged about in dressing gowns. Wertham was a student of Freud who discovered a message that Bob Kane, Batman's creator, probably never consciously intended. But that doesn't mean it wasn't there.</p>
<p>Wertham's book led to the adoption of a code of standards by the comic book industry, which included, among other things, an admonition that &quot;sex perversion or any inference to same is strictly forbidden.&quot; After this history, the <em>Batman</em> TV series, which was made in the mid-to-late 1960s, couldn't plead the same innocence. Post-Wertham, the producers were well aware of the gay take on Batman and Robin. Rather than resist it, they gave a camp tenor to the whole series. In the 1960s, even most adult viewers interpreted the program as broad parody. But once the idea of a gay subtext has been planted, Louie the Lilac (as played by Milton Berle) isn't just a villain who likes to wear purple.</p>
<p> In a curious way, gays, their friends, and their enemies have all collaborated in destroying the sexual innocence of cartoon characters by making an issue out of it. When trying to elude Elmer Fudd or Yosemite Sam, Bugs Bunny is liable to dress up as a woman, vamp around, or imitate Katharine Hepburn. Is this meant to indicate that he likes other boy bunnies? Many of these antics were borrowed from vaudeville comedy, where a man dressing up as a woman didn't necessarily imply homosexuality (although the same questions arise in retrospect). The Warner Bros. studio, where these cartoons were created in the 1940s and '50s, was an aggressively heterosexual milieu. Chuck Jones and other illustrators were mocking stereotyped homosexual behavior, not winking at homosexuals in a friendly way. But while a man dressing up as a woman may not have &quot;meant&quot; anything in the 1940s, it does mean something in the late 1990s. What has sexualized these cartoon characters is the change in the culture, which in the last few decades has become not just aware of homosexuality but increasingly open about and tolerant of it.</p>
<p> Ernie and Bert are another good example of this process. When <em>Sesame Street</em> was created in the early 1970s, no one meant for them to be taken as lovers. But consider two men living together, sleeping in the same room, and taking great interest in each other's baths. Predictably, the &quot;urban legend&quot; that Ernie and Bert were gay began to spread. In 1994, a Southern preacher named Joseph Chambers tried to get them banned under an old North Carolina anti-sodomy law. (He said they had &quot;blatantly effeminate characteristics.&quot;) The Children's Television Workshop eventually had to deny the rumors, which have included an impending same-sex union. But the gay read on Ernie and Bert isn't wrong because the creators don't endorse it. The same goes for the <em>Peanuts</em> characters Peppermint Patty and her tomboy friend Marcie, who always refers to her as &quot;Sir.&quot; When Charles M. Schulz created the strip, he never imagined that Patty and Marcie would be claimed as protolesbians.</p>
<p>In recent years, children's entertainment has contained an increasing number of apparently intentional or even obviously intentional gay references. In <em>The Lion King,</em> Simba leaves home and is more or less adopted by Timon and Pumbaa, a male meerkat and a male warthog who live together as a couple in the jungle. In the 1994 Disney film, the actor Nathan Lane supplied the voice of Timon in much the same style as his flamboyantly gay character in <em>The Birdcage</em>. When I saw the Broadway version of the musical, the audience roared at Timon's even more exaggerated gay mannerisms.</p>
<p> Or consider <em>Pee-wee's Playhouse</em>. Pee-wee Herman minces about and becomes obviously infatuated with other male characters who conform to gay archetypes. While parents may pick up this gay semaphore, kids aren't likely to. To them, Timon, Pumbaa, and Pee-wee are just goofy characters.</p>
<p>Elsewhere, the implicit has become explicit. On <em>The Simpsons</em>, Smithers, the bow tie wearing toady who trails around after Mr. Burns, has become increasingly gay. According to Larry Doyle, who writes for the show, Smithers was originally just a sycophant in love with the boss. But lately he has taken to cruising college campuses in his Miata, looking for &quot;recruits.&quot; In last week's episode, Apu, the Indian convenience store owner, goes down to the docks to donate porno magazines to sailors. The sea captain calls out to thank him: &quot;Thank you for the <em>Jugs</em> magazines. They'll keep my men from resorting to homosexuality ... for about 10 minutes!&quot; The sailors all laugh, and one calls out, &quot;Look who's talking!&quot;</p>
<p>It isn't absurd for anyone, including Falwell, to notice these hints, inferences, and references. But it is ridiculous to object to them. There's no scientific or psychological basis for believing that children are affected in their sexual development or eventual sexual orientation by exposure to homosexuality--on television or in real life. If the creators of cartoons are intentionally or unintentionally giving children the idea that gay people are part of the big, happy human family, that's a good thing, not a bad one. (If it weren't for gay people, there would be no <em>Lion King</em>--or much else on the all-American cultural front.) The conservative paranoia about recruiting, which leads them to think that gay school teachers and Boy Scout leaders present a hazard to the young is pure prejudice.</p>
<p>Anyway, for the religious right, this battle is pointless because the war is already lost. Gay themes are everywhere. <em>Pee-wee's Playhouse</em> runs every day on the Fox Family Channel, the cable network Pat Robertson recently sold to Rupert Murdoch. It's just a couple of hours ahead of <em>The 700 Club</em>.</p>Sun, 21 Feb 1999 08:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/02/the_cartoon_closet.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-02-21T08:30:00ZJerry Falwell doesn't know the half of it.TechnologyThe Cartoon Closet20251Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/20251falsefalsefalseThe Cartoon ClosetThe Cartoon ClosetAttention Must Not Be Paidhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/02/attention_must_not_be_paid.html
<p> This week, a revival of Arthur Miller's classic 1949 tragedy <em>Death of a Salesman</em> opened on Broadway. Something seems redundant about this sentence, since Miller's tragedies from the 1940s and '50s exist in a state of near-perpetual revival. Last year, the Roundabout Theatre staged an acclaimed version of <em>A View From the Bridge</em>, Miller's 1955 tragedy about immigrant life. The season before that, it was <em>All My Sons</em>, Miller's 1947 tragedy about a son's discovery of his father's wartime corruption. In 1996, Miller's own son produced a fine film version of <em>The Crucible</em>, Miller's 1953 tragedy about the Salem witch trials as a parable of McCarthyism. On the basis of these four works, written over a period of only eight years, Miller is frequently referred to as America's greatest living playwright.</p>
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<p>Arthur Miller did not die or quit working in the 1950s. He remains alive and continues to write--more prolifically, in fact, than he did back then. Yet despite the immense national and international interest in his four famous postwar plays, the dozen or so he has written in the last 40 years are all but ignored. If you've read or seen any of the more recent ones--<em>The Ride Down Mt. Morgan</em>, <em>The Last Yankee</em>, <em>Broken Glass</em>, or <em>The American Clock</em>, you might agree that this neglect is warranted. These works are labored, didactic, and humorless, with weak characters and weaker ideas. Even if you think, as I do, that Miller's &quot;classic&quot; plays are somewhat overrated, the gap between his early work and everything since is mysteriously wide. What happened to this man? Attention must be paid.</p>
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<p>The crisp 50<sup>th</sup> anniversary production of <em>Death of Salesman</em>, which comes to the Eugene O'Neill Theatre in New York City from the Goodman in Chicago, is a good place to begin the inquest. Brian Dennehy restores the original girth to the role of Willy Loman, who was played on stage in 1949 and in the first film version by the looming Lee J. Cobb before he was downsized by Dustin Hoffman. Stuffed into a three-piece suit that visibly wilts in the course of his decline, Dennehy uses his bulk as his chief dramatic asset. Just carrying his own weight seems a terrific burden for his character--the working stiff as beached whale. Almost everything else about the production is equally strong. The design and staging are clever but not too arty. Sliding screens and rotating platforms convey effectively the chaos of Loman's mind--the jumble of present, past, and fantasy. This is a Chicago-school production, the kind associated with the Goodman, Steppenwolf, and Wisdom Bridge theaters. Robert Falls, the director, draws out the dramatic vigor and intensity of the text, without adding any heavy interpretive overlay of his own.</p>
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<p>Such a limpid production provides a window into the merits and flaws of the play itself. The chief strength of <em>Death of a Salesman</em> is its psychological acuity and its insight into family misery. At its heart is the head-butting relationship between the disappointed father and his troubled son Biff, played by Kevin Anderson. What the play captures so well is the way in which a parent's frustrations and projected ambitions can poison a child's life. Willy's pushing his sons to succeed and his unwillingness to accept their failures develop into delusion and insanity. In catching this phenomenon, Miller created a great role on the American stage.</p>
<p> B ut Miller's weaknesses as a dramatist are also latent in this play. I hope I never have to sit through <em>Death of a Salesman</em> again, not because it's depressing and bleak but because it's unrelieved and unchallenging. As a dramatist, Miller not only has no sense of humor, he also fails to grasp how changes in tone and texture can be used to make tragedy tolerable. Here, as in his other plays, he seems terrified that someone might accuse him of entertainment. Nor is there much loveliness to his language. Miller occasionally writes a brilliant line, such as Willy's response to the callow boss who fires him after 35 years--&quot;You can't eat an orange and throw the peel away.&quot; But more often, when he reaches for poetry, he achieves only portentousness, as in the nearly play-wrecking &quot;requiem&quot; that Willy's friend Charley delivers at his funeral, &quot;No one dast blames this man.&quot; The humorless, stilted quality of Miller's writing makes <em>Salesman</em> feel like a dental extraction.</p>
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<p>The other problem is that while Miller at his best is fierce and brutal, he is seldom intricate or subtle. <em>Death of a Salesman</em> is of a piece with powerful but uncomplicated works of literature from the same era such as <em>The Grapes of Wrath.</em> The social content of the play--its &quot;indictment&quot; of the values of American capitalism and consumerism (as they say in 10<sup>th</sup>-grade English)--retains something of its currency. But you don't get a lot more out of this point by hearing it made again and again. Miller is a preachy playwright who lets you know what you're supposed to think about everything that happens in his moral universe. In his didacticism he denies his characters ambiguity and hence a life of their own.</p>
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<p>What redeems <em>Death of a Salesman</em> is its furious energy and the fact that Miller's arguments were fresh when he wrote it. But in his subsequent plays--both the few that are good and the many that are not so good--these ideas become steadily more tiresome. For example, <em>Broken Glass</em> (1993) is <em>Death of a Salesman</em> compounded by issues of Jewish self-hatred and sexual impotence. The setting is Brooklyn in 1938. Phillip Gellburg is an upscale Willy Loman who has devoted his life to a company that throws him onto the slag heap as soon as he begins to falter. As Gellburg's life comes apart, self-understanding eludes him. He dies begging forgiveness from his martyred wife.</p>
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<p>In all his plays, Miller remains fixed to the same set of concerns: corruption and the worship of material success; loyalty and betrayal; fathers and sons; public responsibility and personal conscience. That list is surely rich enough to support a lifetime of playwriting, but Miller handles these themes in the same way again and again. That way identifies him as a playwright of the immediate postwar era, a period characterized by the anxiety of affluence, the worry that rising material status was being purchased at the expense of decency and mutual responsibility. His plays have a message, and it's always similar, if not the same.</p>
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<p>It isn't just themes and arguments that recur in Miller's work. Plots and characters do too. His plays most often involve the devastating loss of one's children's respect (<em>All My Sons</em>, <em>Death of a Salesman</em>, <em>A View From the Bridge</em>, <em>The Price</em>, <em>The Ride Down Mt. Morgan</em>). This leads to suicide as the only remedy for shame <em>(All My Sons</em>, <em>Death of a Salesman</em>, <em>After the Fall</em>, <em>The Ride Down Mt. Morgan,</em><em>The Crucible</em>). Miller's men struggle with their consciences, but his women never do. They're either saintly, maternal figures (Kate Keller in <em>All My Sons</em>, Linda Loman in <em>Death of a Salesman</em>, Elizabeth Proctor in <em>The Crucible</em>) or destructive temptresses (Abigail Williams in <em>The Crucible</em>, Catherine in <em>A View From the Bridge</em>, Maggie in <em>After the Fall</em>). The lack of interest in women's minds is another thing that dates Miller and makes even his more recent plays seem like period pieces.</p>
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<p>To some extent, Miller's fate is that of the Broadway stage. Since the 1950s, the middle-class audience for his kind of serious social drama has shriveled. The theater has ceased to be the place where Americans explore issues of the kind raised by <em>Death of a Salesman</em>. But Miller's failure is ultimately his own. As his ideas grew familiar and then stale, he found no way to complicate them, develop them, or move on to something else. <em>Death of a Salesman</em>, his greatest play, is about the devastating effects of professional failure. But Miller's career is a testament to the opposite problem: creative paralysis brought on by early success.</p>Sun, 14 Feb 1999 08:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/02/attention_must_not_be_paid.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-02-14T08:30:00ZPlease don't make me see Death of a Salesman again.TechnologyAttention Must Not Be Paid19380Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/19380falsefalsefalseAttention Must Not Be PaidAttention Must Not Be PaidPicasso.comhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/02/picassocom.html
<p> The business press played the birth announcement of sothebys.com last month as another story about the frenzy for e-commerce. The snooty British auction house, founded in 1744, was going to remodel itself after eBay, the 24 hour electronic garage sale! Out the window went centuries of snobbery, mystique, and pretension. Up, up went Sotheby's stock, on the basis of a Web site that didn't yet exist and that wouldn't be selling anything for six months.</p>
<p></p>
<p>But the dotcomming of Sotheby's is about more than a fusty old company chasing fresh loot. It's a harbinger of the dramatic transformation that's about to sweep the entire business of buying and selling rare and precious things. The market for art, which has long behaved very differently from markets for other kinds of goods, is about to be transformed by the irresistible force of the Internet. The upscaling of the online auction fad is one aspect of this change, but perhaps only a small part of it.</p>
<p></p>
<p>The trade in art has always been anomalous in economic terms. What's unusual about the business is its secretiveness. Vendors of most other kinds of goods--household appliances, cut-up chicken parts, and condominiums--generally advertise what they have for sale and how much it costs. Transparency benefits consumers, who can compare prices, features, and quality. If you want to buy a 19 inch color television set, you start by checking the newspaper for advertised prices. In markets where price comparisons aren't easily available--Oriental rugs or new cars--buyers are at a conspicuous disadvantage. The buying experience is unpleasant because consumers suspect they're being fleeced. Market secrecy tends to break down, because sellers have to reveal their prices if their competitors do. In recent years, this has happened with cars and even Persian carpets.</p>
<p></p>
<p>In the art world, however, secrecy has survived. Art dealers seldom advertise prices and sometimes won't even quote them if they're not convinced a buyer is on the hook. There was an outcry among gallery owners a few years ago, when New York passed a law requiring them to post prices for works that are actually on display. Most follow it, but grudgingly. &quot;We're sheepish about posting prices,&quot; says a dealer I know at a high-end SoHo gallery. &quot;Why give out free information?&quot; And don't even bother asking what they have for sale. At Wildenstein &amp; Co., which has the world's largest private collection of Old Master and Impressionist paintings, not even employees are allowed to know what's inside the vaults.</p>
<p> T here are a variety of reasons for these practices--historical, cultural, and economic. Art dealing as a profession originated mainly in France, where it began its long association with social snobbery. The art dealer cultivates his aura (and the more mystical aura of the art object) by casting himself as a connoisseur rather than as a merchant. He flatters his buyer as a person of taste and distinction rather than a mere customer. As a consequence, buyers tend not to behave the way consumers do in other fields. But the most potent factor is the economic logic of selling rare or unique goods. Comparison shopping is hard. Even in the case of multiple-edition prints, where a sizable number of identical lithographs may exist, you're not likely to find them competitively priced in adjoining storefronts. And virtually everything else is subjective. Which is better: a green Warhol Marilyn or a red Warhol Marilyn? A 1964 Warhol or a 1964 Rauschenberg? By making intrinsically difficult comparisons nearly impossible, dealers augment their power over the market. In other words, they can get prices higher than what they would get if everything were laid on the table with a price tag attached.</p>
<p></p>
<p>The one check on the power of dealers has always been auctions, where individuals can buy and sell, bidding is public, and prices are published. Selling more art at auctions and expanding the number of people who can participate in auctions, which is what Sotheby's is trying to do by holding them online, will bring more efficiency (if less drama) to the art market. But the real way the Internet stands to revolutionize the economics of the art business is simply by breaking down the secrecy that prevails in the nonauction sector of the market. If some dealers are willing to sell art to buyers via the Internet--and almost all of them are now fanatically eager to do so--those who remain coy about what they have and how much they want for it will put themselves at a competitive disadvantage. They'll be denying themselves access to the fastest expanding sector of the international art market.</p>
<p></p>
<p>The chief vehicle for this transformation isn't Sotheby's. It's <u><a href="http://www.artnet.com/galleries/index.html">ArtNet</a></u>, on online service which now provides access to the wares of 700 dealers around the world, and which is adding new galleries at the rate of 70 a month. ArtNet is the brainchild of Hans Neuendorf, a German dealer who started the first international art fair, in Cologne in 1967--the first actual art market. A few years ago, Neuendorf founded ArtNet as a database for auction results. Now he has turned it into a consortium of galleries offering wares directly over the Internet. The company is headed for--you guessed it--an IPO. Neuendorf says he wants to challenge the way the art business works directly. &quot;This tendency to keep everything secret, to take little advantages of information, has resulted in a suffocation of the market,&quot; he says. &quot;If you wanted to set up a system to keep people away from buying art, it would be very close to what we have now.&quot;</p>
<p></p>
<p>The theory behind Neuendorf's business is that the Web will expand the market not only by spreading information but also by making art into a more liquid asset. Web auctions like Sotheby's and the competitor Neuendorf plans to launch in March should significantly reduce the transaction costs associated with selling art--for dealers and private individuals. The seller doesn't have to pay a commission, as in an off-line auction. Gone will be the need for expensive catalogs, transparencies FedExed around the world, and multiple packing, shipping, and insurance costs as the work goes from gallery to auction house to purchaser. Today the sale of a work of art can add 25 percent to the purchase price and take six months; an efficient online sale might add only 10 percent and take but a few days.</p>
<p></p>
<p>There are a variety of smaller dealer consortiums, similar in principle to ArtNet, which allow buyers to browse gallery stock and view whole exhibitions online. They encourage the kind of comparison shopping that was previously impossible in the art world. Not all galleries give prices, but enough do to allow the buyer the upper hand occasionally. For example, looking up the artist Chuck Close, I found nine different lithographs for sale online, including three copies from the same edition of 50 prints titled &quot;Lucas Woodcut.&quot; The galleries offering this print advertised it at shockingly different prices. The <a href="http://www.paceprints.com/">Pace Gallery</a> on 57<sup>th</sup> Street in New York City had it for $5,000. <a href="http://www.artnet.com/jkfa.html">Jim Kempner Fine Arts</a>, a gallery in Chelsea specializing in 20th century prints, had it for $12,500. A third gallery, <a href="http://www.artnet.com/schaller.html">Kunsthaus Schaller</a> in Stuttgart, Germany, had it for 38,000 deutsche marks, which is just over $22,000.</p>
<p></p>
<p>In the art business, old ways die hard. I e-mailed all three galleries, asking them to explain the disparity in their prices. Pace responded that they had made a mistake. Their price was $18,000. Jim Kempner also claimed a misunderstanding, saying that his price, curiously enough, was really the same as Pace's--$18,000. He subsequently offered to sell it to me for $16,000. (I never heard back from the gallery in Germany). I'm not sure how with a pair of e-mail messages I managed to effectively double the price of Chuck Close lithographs. But you can see why dealers are reluctant to give out prices: It makes it harder for them to raise them at a moment's notice when an artist's stock rises, as Close's did when he had a big retrospective at the Museum of Modern Art a few months ago. In any case, if I had actually been interested in buying the print, with the help of the Web, I would have been in a far better position to negotiate a favorable price.</p>
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<p>What, you might ask, do dealers stand to gain from making information available online if it merely gives leverage to their customers? The answer is that the Internet stands to expand the market as a whole more than enough to compensate them for having to compete with each other. A gallery in Geneva or Berlin can now sell artwork to someone who never leaves Iowa City. Some even think that while Internet competition may drive prices down initially, prices will rise as sellers are matched with buyers and the market clears. Neuendorf, for one, says he expects the Web to drive art prices through the roof. Judging from what Pez dispensers are fetching on eBay, he might just be right.</p>Sun, 07 Feb 1999 08:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/02/picassocom.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-02-07T08:30:00ZThe Internet breaks open the art market.TechnologyPicasso.com18810Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/18810falsefalsefalsePicasso.comPicasso.comBlacklist and Backstoryhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/01/blacklist_and_backstory.html
<p> A couple of weeks ago, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences announced that it would award an honorary Oscar to the director Elia Kazan. What was surprising about this news was the amount of controversy it generated: virtually none. For decades, Kazan has been reviled as the most notorious of those who &quot;named names&quot;--identified Communists working in Hollywood--before the House Committee on Un-American Activities. In recent years, both the American Film Institute and the Los Angeles Film Critics Association have turned Kazan down for honors that no one disputes are merited by his films, which include <em>East of Eden</em> and <em>A Streetcar Named Desire</em>. But this time the vote in Kazan's favor was unanimous. Reporters looking to reprise the old conflict had a hard time finding anyone who still bears him a grudge.</p>
<p>Why have Kazan's enemies suddenly dropped their complaint? Several articles on the subject have ritually invoked &quot;the end of the Cold War&quot; as an explanation. But it's not clear why the collapse of Communism should smooth matters over. Many wars end in a reckoning rather than in forgiveness and forgetting. A more plausible explanation is probably that Kazan, now 89, has outlived most of his antagonists and that the fury of the rest has lost its edge. It may indeed be time to excuse Kazan for what he did in 1952. But if so, it shouldn't happen because no one can be troubled to remember or sort out the morality of his actions.</p>
<p>A&nbsp;synopsis: In the 1930s, Kazan got his start in the Group Theater, a left-wing theater troupe that was home to the legendary directors Lee Strasberg and Harold Clurman, as well as the radical playwright Clifford Odets. For a year and a half, Kazan was a member of a Communist &quot;cell&quot; inside the Group. He quit after members of the cell received orders to take over the theater and turn it into an &quot;actors collective.&quot; Despite his resignation/expulsion, Kazan remained sympathetic to the Soviet Union into the 1940s, when he began directing Hollywood films. But that sympathy was long gone by 1952, when he was called before HUAC.</p>
<p>The first time he testified, in January, Kazan took a principled position: He would discuss his own involvement in the party but not the others who had been in it with him. So the committee called him back to Washington and put him under oath. Under pressure from the FBI and the movie studios, he reversed himself. Since the committee already knew the names it wanted, &quot;naming names&quot; was a loyalty test and humiliation ritual, not part of a real investigation. There is a chilling, <em>Darkness at Noon</em> quality to Kazan's questioning by Frank Tavenner Jr., a lawyer for the committee:</p>
<p>Tavenner: I understand that you have voluntarily requested the committee to reopen your hearing, and give you an opportunity to explain fully the participation of others known to you at the time to have been members of the Communist Party.</p>
<p>Kazan: That is correct. I want to make a full and complete statement. I want to tell you everything I know about it.</p>
<p>Kazan's prepared statement offered up the names of the eight others who were members of his Group Theater cell. The names included Odets, who subsequently named names himself, and several actors since forgotten, in part, perhaps, because they were blacklisted.</p>
<p>It was not just his testimony that made Kazan into a Linda Tripp figure of his time. After all, Odets gave HUAC the same names, as did Lewis Leverett, another Group Theater alumnus whom Kazan named. But many others who named names did so under ostensible protest, or later castigated themselves publicly for crawling before the committee. Kazan embraced his inquisitors. Soon after he testified, he took out an ad in the <em>New York Times</em> to defend himself. &quot;I believe that any American who is in possession of such facts has the obligation to make them known, either to the public or to the appropriate Government agency,&quot; he wrote. &quot;Whatever hysteria exists--and there is some, particularly in Hollywood--is inflamed by mystery, suspicion and secrecy. Hard and exact facts will cool it.&quot; Kazan made his case more memorably in the 1954 film <em>On the Waterfront</em>, in which Marlon Brando plays a longshoreman faced with a choice about whether to &quot;rat&quot; on the murderous and corrupt leadership of his union. His decision to testify is portrayed as an act of courageous whistle-blowing, not betrayal or cowardice.</p>
<p>For years afterward, Kazan kept his silence about the episode. &quot;I don't think there's anything in my life toward which I have more ambivalence, because, obviously, there's something disgusting about giving other people's names,&quot; he acknowledged in a 1971 interview. But he also refused to apologize and defended his choice. In his fascinating autobiography, published in 1988, Kazan expresses a range of justifications. He wasn't telling the committee any names it didn't know; as an immigrant, he was eager to demonstrate his patriotism; he was faced with a choice of two evils.</p>
<p>Did he do wrong? The first question to ask is what the right thing would have been. Kazan might have stood by his original policy, asserting that while he hated Communism, he would not assist in a violation of civil liberties. Kazan's soon to be ex-friend Arthur Miller did something like this four years later when he refused to answer questions. Miller claimed the First Amendment (right to freedom of speech and association) rather than taking the Fifth (right against self-incrimination). This was the more principled stand, since taking the Fifth implied agreeing that simply being a Communist was a crime. Also, there is no Fifth Amendment right against incriminating others. Unfortunately, the Supreme Court had never ruled that the First Amendment could be used in this way.</p>
<p>With McCarthyism much weaker by 1956, Miller avoided prison and continued to have his plays produced. But for Kazan to take Miller's stance before HUAC in 1952 would almost certainly have meant a contempt citation and time in jail. Kazan would not have made films for many years, if ever again. For a great artist like Kazan to immolate himself to protect the rights of lesser artists, or more precisely in a quixotic attempt to protect those rights, would have been heroic. But failing to be a hero did not make him a villain. The villains were the blacklisters. Kazan was one of their victims.</p>
<p>But failing to be a villain doesn't make him a hero, either. Where Kazan did go wrong was in casting an evil he couldn't avoid as a good. His statement that the &quot;facts&quot; about Communism were the cure for anti-Communist hysteria was disingenuous. The real cure for anti-Communist hysteria was a courage that Kazan, like most people, did not possess. But this bit of gratuitous groveling pales next to the sins of others--both those who remained Stalinists into the 1950s and those who did not just acquiesce in, but advocated, McCarthyism. For the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, which actually enforced the blacklist, to reject Kazan for his comparatively minor offenses would have been the sheerest hypocrisy.</p>
<p>Some historians have argued recently that new information makes all forms of American anti-Communism, including even McCarthyism, look better in hindsight. They contend that the so-called Venona intercepts, a few of which have been released, show definitively not only that Alger Hiss and the Rosenbergs were spies but also that there was far more Soviet string-pulling behind American Communism than anyone ever knew. But none of these revelations improves the case that Hollywood Communism was a significant threat to democracy. Murray Kempton got this story right in 1955, in his book <em>Part of Our Time</em>. The Hollywood Communists, most of them screenwriters, were overpaid hacks, not dangerous revolutionaries. The examples of &quot;propaganda&quot; they slipped into scripts are few and laughable. The high point of Kempton's essay on the Hollywood 10 is a list of the folderol the blacklisted screenwriters actually produced--with excerpts from the glowing reviews they received from the Daughters of the American Revolution.</p>
<p>Elia Kazan wasn't a hack, and he didn't try to be a hero. He deserves an Oscar as much as anyone living--for best director, not for best human being. Who in the movie industry qualifies for that second one anyway?</p>Sun, 31 Jan 1999 08:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/01/blacklist_and_backstory.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-01-31T08:30:00ZHollywood's unexpected embrace of Elia Kazan.TechnologyBlacklist and Backstory18121Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/18121falsefalsefalseBlacklist and BackstoryBlacklist and BackstoryGI Envyhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/01/gi_envy.html
<p> The No. 1 best seller in America this week is <em>The Greatest Generation</em>, by NBC news anchor Tom Brokaw. The most acclaimed and second highest grossing film of 1998 (just behind <em>Armageddon</em>) was <em>Saving Private Ryan</em>. Though Steven Spielberg's film is fiction and Brokaw's book is something akin to oral history, they have in common a fashionable theme: the nobility of those who served in the armed forces during World War II and, by extension, Americans of that age in general.</p>
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<p>You might describe this perspective as GI envy. Both Brokaw (born in 1940) and Spielberg (born in 1946) evince a powerful sense of nostalgia for the world of their fathers. As his title suggests, Brokaw makes an explicit case for the superiority of the World War II generation. In an introduction to the interview-profiles that make up his book, he repeats a claim he first made on television when he was swept up by the emotion of the 50<sup>th</sup> anniversary of D-Day in 1994: &quot;This is the greatest generation any society has produced.&quot;</p>
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<p>The corollary of this reverence is an often underarticulated feeling of generational self-loathing. Echoing through Brokaw's book, and to a lesser extent through Spielberg's movie, is an implicit comparison to the softer and more selfish generation that followed. Joe Klein, another boomer critic of his own generation, often drew this contrast during the Clinton-Dole presidential race, which he described as &quot;a choice between experience and callowness, between sacrifice and self-indulgence, between the most heroic American generation of the century and the most coddled.&quot; Boomer self-disgust has also been making itself felt in the impeachment battle. Many of those who want to remove the president are conservative boomers who believe that Bill Clinton symbolizes a generation raised amid postwar prosperity according to the principles of Dr. Spock, one that lacks the moral fiber of those who experienced the Great Depression and fought in World War II.</p>
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<p>Were they the greatest generation that ever lived? Their children's generational neuroses don't necessarily prove Brokaw wrong. But the Brokaw position is badly flawed, not because of the instinct that motivates it but because of a romanticizing tendency that eclipses all logic and evidence. The notion that the GIs were somehow better people than those born after them remains, like most facile generalizations about generations, a matter of prejudice, not analysis.</p>
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<p>Let's look at a few of Brokaw's overreaching assertions. In his introduction, he writes of the GIs, &quot;They stayed true to their values of personal responsibility, duty, honor, and faith.&quot; That sounds plausible--where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? But consider just one of those attributes: &quot;faith.&quot; Putting aside the question of whether more faith is a good thing, was the GI generation really more religious than others? Brokaw doesn't offer any support for this claim, and one might well make the opposite case. The United States has probably become more religious as boomers have become the dominant demographic group. About 10 percent more people now say they belong to churches than did so in the 1950s, when the GIs predominated.</p>
<p> Almost all the traits Brokaw attributes to the GIs are subject to similar demurrals. &quot;That's another legacy of the World War II generation, the strong commitment to family values and community,&quot; Brokaw writes in another characteristic passage. It's true that returning veterans didn't get divorced in large numbers. But that doesn't prove that our grandparents and parents had a deeper commitment to family values. It simply testifies to the legal and social reality they inherited--it was hard to get divorced in the 1940s and '50s. Who changed that reality? The GIs did, because they found the virtual prohibition on divorce an intolerable restriction on their freedom. As divorces became more readily available, GIs had them too. The baby boomers who inherited the divorce laws the World War II generation loosened have in recent years begun to contemplate tightening them again.</p>
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<p>I&nbsp;don't mean to imply that Brokaw's book is all drivel. It includes a number of moving stories about wartime heroism that can be appreciated without reference to its argument, which is pretty much superfluous. But what's missing from Brokaw's book--as from most oral history--is any hint of analytical rigor. Aspects of American life that Brokaw deplores, such as segregation and McCarthyism, are viewed as part of the wallpaper. It was not the GI generation that rounded up Japanese Americans and put them into camps. That was merely &quot;American racism.&quot; But when it came to the good that happened on their watch, Brokaw gives the GIs themselves full credit. &quot;They came to understand the need for federal civil rights legislation,&quot; he writes. &quot;They gave America Medicare.&quot; Well, GI Johnson did give America Medicare. But others, such as GI Dole, voted against it. Let's not forget that George Wallace and Joe McCarthy also served in World War II.</p>
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<p>Brokaw repeats most of the other familiar clich&eacute;s: World War II veterans know the value of a dollar, they never boast, and they're reluctant to talk about their wartime experiences. I'm tempted to say that Brokaw never met my Uncle Stanley. Of course, it's true that there are a lot of World War II-era vets who aren't inclined to relive the battlefield horrors they experienced. But this may have less to do with the unique stoicism of a generation than with the natural inclination everyone has to repress traumatic experiences. If Vietnam vets have been tempted to make more of a meal of their experiences, it's partly due to the fact that those experiences weren't widely shared. The therapeutic culture of the present era also probably plays a role, teaching us that it's not healthy to keep one's pain bottled up inside. But who created that therapeutic culture? You could argue, once again, that it was a bequest from members of the GI generation, who introduced psychiatry and psychoanalysis into American life.</p>
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<p>What many of the GIs Brokaw interviews say explicitly is that the baby boomers lack the moral character they themselves had. &quot;They faced great odds and a late start, but <em>they did not protest</em>,&quot; Brokaw writes of the GIs, casting another aspersion at the Vietnam generation (italics mine). But at the risk of stating the obvious, Vietnam was not like World War II. The question men of draft age faced after Pearl Harbor was whether they would serve their country in an unambiguously good cause. The challenge faced by the Vietnam generation was morally more complex: How do you serve your country when it is engaged in a morally dubious cause (a cause the country as a whole--not just a few protesters--came to conclude was a mistake)? The World War II generation also had little choice. Everyone was needed in the war effort, and there were few opportunities to dodge the draft. During the Vietnam War, the military needed only a small percentage of those who were eligible, and there were many options for evasion, legal and illegal. Some served and didn't protest. Others protested and didn't serve. Some, like Bob Kerrey and John Kerry, served and then protested. Even today, there is no obvious answer to who answered this quandary in the best way. The GI envy felt by members of the Vietnam generation seems in part a longing for the clearer moral imperative of another time.</p>
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<p>There are, to be sure, pivotal generational experiences. No one would deny that the Great Depression and World War II molded one group of people or that Vietnam shaped another. But attempts to explain history in terms of common traits already possessed by the peer groups that confronted these events are seldom illuminating. Just as we cannot know how the baby boomers would have responded to the moral challenge of World War II, we cannot know how the World War II generation would have responded to the different moral challenge of Vietnam. For that matter, we can't compare the GIs to the Athenians of Pericles' time, the Florentines of Michelangelo's, or the Americans of Abraham Lincoln's. To call one generation the &quot;greatest&quot; doesn't say anything meaningful about that generation. It does, however, reveal something of what the speaker finds lacking in his own.</p>Sun, 17 Jan 1999 08:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/01/gi_envy.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-01-17T08:30:00ZTom Brokaw, World War II, and yuppie self-loathing.TechnologyGI Envy13844Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/13844falsefalsefalseGI EnvyGI EnvyLives of the Artistshttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/01/lives_of_the_artists.html
<p> Painters, as a rule, have livelier lives than novelists do. Where a writer basically sits alone at a desk, an artist does his thing amid a supporting cast of patrons, models, dealers, and assistants. While the novelist hones his private style, the painter joins and repudiates group movements. In the misbehavior category, there's not even any comparison. As Faulkner nips from a flask in the drawer, Pollock makes a boozy public spectacle of himself. Hemingway might have a few wives, but Picasso has scores of mistresses. If the writer has mistresses, the painter has orgies.</p>
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<p>All this has made art biographies, since Giorgio Vasari started writing them in the 16<sup>th</sup> century, pretty good entertainment. Yet it's not immediately obvious how such stories help you to appreciate what's hanging on the wall. If you want to grasp what Harry Truman contributed to civilization, you would do well to pick up a good bio. You can't exactly go to a museum to view &quot;containment policy.&quot; Artists, by contrast, endeavor to reach us without words. A critic or art historian may direct our attention to things we would otherwise miss. But does the intimate biographer bring us any closer to the experience of art?</p>
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<p>You might derive very different answers to that question from the three books I read over the holidays. These biographies of Henri Matisse, Diego Rivera, and Salvador Dal&iacute;, all of them by British writers without backgrounds in art, represent alternative approaches to the problem of writing a painter's life. Hilary Spurling's Matisse is a careful and tightly focused attempt to illuminate a painter's development. Patrick Marnham's Rivera is a breezy life and times, a raucous and gossipy tale that is only secondarily about painting. Ian Gibson's Dal&iacute; is an overflowing dumpster of a book, which puts forward an irritating psychological argument about its subject. But though the first two of these biographies are excellent and the third one dreadful, they all butt up against the same generic problem. Artists' lives are often diverting but seldom illuminating.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Let's start with the best of the bunch. Spurling's biography of Matisse, the first volume of a projected two, is a subtle account of a great painter's unfolding. The obvious question about Matisse is how a seed merchant's son from France's ugly and smelly industrial north became both an inventor of modernism and a master of Mediterranean color and light. <em>The Unknown Matisse</em> gives us his small steps, setbacks, and radical innovations. Spurling's scoop is her explanation of why, after moving several increments toward his mature style, the painter lapsed into a dark period that lasted from 1902-04. Matisse, she has discovered, was drawn into the scandal arising from a huge financial fraud in which his wife's parents were implicated. This took up all his time, strained his meager resources, and gave him a breakdown. Only after his in-laws were cleared did Matisse make his Fauvist breakthrough in the summer of 1905. Spurling draws our attention to some of his influences: the ornate textiles from the Flanders town where he was raised, paintings by Turner seen on a honeymoon in London, and a C&eacute;zanne painting he bought with his family's grocery money.</p>
<p></p>
<p>The thing that is so admirable about Matisse is his quiet integrity. For the better part of two decades, this reserved man of regular habits fought poverty, illness, incomprehension, and rejection to make revolutionary painting. His father considered him a shame to the family and disinherited him. Teachers in Paris told him he was hopeless. Contemporaries greeted each of his milestone paintings as more ridiculous than the last. Works such as Matisse's 1907 <em>Blue Nude</em> shocked even rival-to-be Picasso. &quot;If he wants to make a woman, let him make a woman. If he wants to make a design, let him make a design. This is between the two,&quot; Picasso said. Soon, Picasso was imitating him.</p>
<p> But even a biography as well-wrought as this one does little to elucidate artistic inspiration. What made Matisse radically simplify the figure and flatten three dimensions into two in the way he did in <em>Harmony in Red</em> (1908)? Spurling informs us that the pattern on the wallpaper and tablecloth comes from a bolt of blue cotton cloth that Matisse glimpsed from a bus and that in the course of revising the painting he changed the background from blue to red. This is interesting trivia, but it does nothing, really, to enhance enjoyment of this masterpiece or comprehension of how Matisse could have painted it.</p>
<p> D iego Rivera had a wilder life than Matisse and produced less important art, a balance wisely reflected in Marnham's entertaining biography. Rivera had a lifelong involvement with Marxist and Mexican politics, countless lovers, famous scandals, and a soap opera of a marriage (actually two marriages) to Frida Kahlo. He was also a fabulist of Marqu&eacute;zian proportions, spinning incredible yarns about his days as a student cannibal or a fighter with Emiliano Zapata.</p>
<p></p>
<p>The true stories are nearly as good as the imagined ones. Though Rivera didn't, as he claimed, try to assassinate Hitler, he may have got Trotsky murdered, writes Marnham. Rivera evicted Trotsky from the sanctuary of his home in Mexico City when he found out that Trotsky was having an affair with Kahlo. Kahlo seduced Trotsky because of her jealousy over the affair Rivera had with her sister. Without Rivera's protection, Trotsky was easier prey for Stalin's assassins. Marnham gives us the Rivera-Kahlo relationship as black comedy. At one point, Rivera confides to friends that his wife has become so depressed that he can't even cheer her up by telling her about his latest sexual conquests.</p>
<p></p>
<p>But in this biography, too, we learn the salient facts of an artist's development without really coming to understand how they happened. In Paris before and during World War I, Rivera was a member of the French avant-garde, executing competent Cubist works such as <em>Still Life With Liqueur Bottle</em> (1915). After a trip to Italy, on which he saw the frescoes from the Italian Renaissance, he dropped Cubism for what soon became his well-known mural painting. In the public fresco, Rivera saw the chance to express his political ideas to the masses. But where did this style come from? And why do Rivera's murals transcend their propagandistic purpose in a way that works by his contemporaries don't? The mystery at the heart of genius remains.</p>
<p> B ritish biographers can usually be counted on to boil things down for us, but Gibson swamps us with as much boring detail as an American biographer. His book is crammed full of stray data he has disinterred about Dal&iacute;'s Catalan ancestors, his sexual obsessions, and infighting within the Surrealist movement, which Dal&iacute; was eventually drummed out of for his pro-fascist sentiments. What Gibson never gets around to telling us is why we should care. The author assumes that Dal&iacute; was a great painter, which is not a given, as with Matisse.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Gibson's big theory is that Dal&iacute;'s life was defined by his feelings of shame. This hardly amounts to a surprising idea about the creator of a painting titled <em>The Great Masturbator</em> (1929), but Gibson treats it as a bolt from the blue. He does not, however, come close to giving us a sense of what went wrong with Dal&iacute;'s art. Unlike Matisse and Rivera, who took a couple of decades to attain their mature styles, Dal&iacute;'s arrival came quick and early. Surrealism, a style he borrowed from Max Ernst and Yves Tanguy, gave him a way to express the rancid contents of his own psyche. It's hard to dispute the virtuosity of a painting such as <em>The Birth of Liquid Desires</em>, painted when he was 28, in 1932. But Dal&iacute; rapidly became slack, repetitious, corrupt, and in the end completely pathetic. Gibson chronicles his long degradation but can't begin to explain it.</p>
<p></p>
<p>After reading these books, I performed an experiment by going to the Museum of Modern Art and testing my reactions against the artists in question. Gibson had reduced Dal&iacute; to a midget. Several examples of his early works reminded me that he was not completely worthless after all. A chunk of a Rivera fresco left me wishing I could see the artist's great murals in Mexico City again. Finally, I made my way to MoMA's big Matisse room, my favorite in the museum. Knowing more about Matisse's struggles had certainly deepened my respect for him. I could have delivered a short lecture on his early years. But did the book add anything to my appreciation of his paintings? I can't say it did.</p>Sun, 10 Jan 1999 08:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1999/01/lives_of_the_artists.htmlJacob Weisberg1999-01-10T08:30:00ZIs biography good for painting?TechnologyLives of the Artists13193Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/13193falsefalsefalseLives of the ArtistsLives of the ArtistsA Question of Characterhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/12/a_question_of_character.html
<p> If Bill Clinton didn't exist, would it be possible to invent him? Of all modern political leaders, he seems the least likely as a character. A Henry James or a Joseph Conrad might do justice to the tensions in Clinton's political career--the tug of war between idealism and cynicism, the empathy for others, and the calculating self-interest. Sinclair Lewis or Theodore Dreiser might depict his climb from provincial obscurity. But who could concoct the juxtapositions of the president's personality? It is hard to think of a figure from English or American literature who combines, for instance, self-destructive sexual interests with an insatiable appetite for domestic policy, or Clinton's mix of high intelligence and low taste. Has anyone scripted him? Let us consider the writers whose inventions capture aspects of the presidential personality.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>William Shakespeare:</strong> When you think of political tragedy, you think immediately of Shakespeare. Richard Nixon, the last president to face impeachment, was clearly a Shakespearean character. To be precise, the Nixon of Watergate was Richard III, the self-pitying monster. The Clinton of Flytrap is not half so dark a figure--underhanded, perhaps, but not purely malevolent. If Clinton exists in Shakespeare, it might be as an amalgamation of the bad qualities of Falstaff and Henry V. He has Falstaff's appetites for food and fornication (without his humor or ironic wisdom). He has Prince Hal's political ambition and disloyalty to his old friends (without his heroism or rhetorical eloquence). But Shakespeare isn't right for Bill Clinton, who even in collapse lacks the grandeur of the Bard's tragic heroes and the absurdity of his comic ones. Shakespeare may provide more models for the first lady. She thinks of herself as Portia, the clever lawyer in <em>The Merchant of Venice</em>. Republicans think of her as a scheming Lady Macbeth. Lately, the public sees her as that unfortunate victim of her husband, <em>Othello</em>'s Desdemona.</p>
<p></p>
<p>W<strong>illiam Faulkner:</strong> Our general image of Clinton's past--Southern poverty with overtones of alcoholism and inbreeding--comes mostly from Faulkner. In the Snopes trilogy (<em>The Hamlet</em>, <em>The Town</em>, and <em>The Mansion</em>), we find the models for Clinton's father, Will Blythe (in the ramblin' bigamist I.O. Snopes); Virginia Kelley (the chunky child bride Eula Varner); and Roger Clinton (the no-goodnik Byron Snopes). Bill Clinton is apparently based on the main protagonist of the three books, Flem Snopes. Flem rises from rural squalor, getting a job as a clerk at Varner's store in Frenchman's Bend, then taking over the store, then moving to the town of Jefferson. He aspires to become president (of the Jefferson Bank) and succeeds. Alas, Faulkner captures the milieu of Gothic dysfunction from which Clinton emerged but describes Flem's rise only in terms of venality, missing the all-important element of idealism.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>Philip Roth:</strong> A closer match is found, surprisingly enough, in Philip's Roth's portrait of a middle-aged Jewish intellectual. &quot;Portnoy's complaint&quot; is defined on the first page of the novel of that name as &quot;A disorder in which strongly-felt ethical and altruistic impulses are perpetually warring with extreme sexual longings, often of a perverse nature.&quot; Sound familiar? Alexander Portnoy, after he outgrows his autoerotic obsession, works for the liberal John Lindsay administration in New York City and does his best to demonstrate his concern for the poor and the oppressed. Meanwhile, however, he is shacked up with a girlfriend he calls the Monkey, who fulfills his sexual fantasies but leaves him living in fear of tabloid scandal. Like Clinton, Portnoy is highly intelligent, mother-obsessed, and pretty much out of control. Another similarity: Portnoy flees to Israel when faced with crisis. Drawbacks: Portnoy is more of a neurotic and less of a liar.</p>
<p></p>
<p>M<strong>ark Twain:</strong> My colleague Walter Shapiro (&quot;Chatterbox&quot;) suggests that Clinton is a Tom Sawyer figure. He's thinking of the famous fence-painting scene, in which Tom tricks his friends into paying him for the right to do his chore. Tom Sawyer does capture rather nicely, I think, Clinton's gift for talking his way out of trouble that better sense might have kept him out of in the first place. Tom is, as Bob Kerrey once said of Clinton, &quot;an unusually good liar.&quot; There's also the great scene where Tom and Huck Finn, who are thought to have drowned, watch their own funerals as spectators. That's a bit like what Clinton seems to be doing now. We know that he'll pop up at the end, Sawyer-like, to announce that, contrary to popular belief, he is not, in fact, finished. Bonus: Hillary as Aunt Polly, who is driven to distraction by Tom's deceptions but always forgives him in the end.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>Charles Dickens:</strong> The great artist of character types is Dickens, but he seems never to have drawn anyone much like Bill Clinton. Republicans might propose Uriah Heep in <em>David Copperfield</em>. Heep, synonymous with unctuousness, is a fawning fellow who worms his way up through oozing manipulation. He does have some Clinton-like traits, such as his obsession with his mother, his smarminess, and his flattering blather. There's a scene in the novel where Copperfield sees Heep asleep, with his &quot;mouth open like a post office.&quot; The phrase fits Clinton beautifully. But Heep is repellant. Clinton, though hated by many, is seductively charming. Newt Gingrich, as he was getting clobbered in budget negotiations in 1995-96, said he &quot;had to go through detox&quot; to prevent himself from being overcome by Clinton's winning ways. Heep is, however, a fine stand-in for the House Majority Whip, Tom DeLay of Texas.</p>
<p></p>
<p>H<strong>erman Melville:</strong> At an anti-impeachment rally this week, the novelist Mary Gordon suggested that Clinton was in fact Billy Budd. &quot;There is something about a kind of accusation that takes on a life of its own in which a punishment is completely incommensurate with the nature of the crime that comes from a sort of sexual madness that I believe is at the root of a lot of the otherwise incomprehensible opposition to Clinton,&quot; Gordon noted. This is a clever nomination, but it doesn't transcend the immediate circumstances of the scandal. Melville's Budd is a naive, good man who is punished unfairly for an accidental murder he is provoked into committing by someone who tried to frame him for a crime. Clinton's impending punishment may be unjust, but as a character he lacks Billy's innocence and forthrightness. Billy steps up to take his undeserved punishment, declining to let others risk their necks by trying to help him. Clinton has consistently done pretty much the opposite. Gordon may be on to something with the issue of sexual jealousy, but neglects the key difference: Budd is lusted after; Clinton lusts. However, there's a silver lining in this one, too. In Claggart, the officer who tries to frame Billy for the crime of mutiny, we find a nautical version of Kenneth Starr.</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>F. Scott Fitzgerald:</strong> While we're considering unlikely comparisons from American literature, we have a proposal from Joe Klein, the author of a fine fictional portrait of Clinton--Jack Stanton in <em>Primary Colors</em>. Klein once wrote of Bill and Hillary: &quot;They are the Tom and Daisy Buchanan of the Baby Boom Political Elite. The Buchanans, you may recall, were F. Scott Fitzgerald's brilliant crystallization of flapper fecklessness in <em>The Great Gatsby</em>. They were 'careless' people. They smashed up lives and didn't notice.&quot; There are some surprisingly good parallels here. Tom Buchanan avoided service in World War I and is a reckless adulterer. But as a personality, he's all wrong--he's a bully and a racist who doesn't care what anyone else thinks about him. And Tom and Daisy are aristocrats; their miserable behavior is the outgrowth of his having too much money, the one thing Clinton has never had and has never seemed to care much about.</p>
<p></p>
<p>L<strong>ewis Carroll:</strong> The indispensable guides to contemporary politics are <em>Alice in Wonderland</em> and <em>Through the Looking Glass</em>, which happens to be where Clinton's most direct literary antecedent appears. Coming upon an egg-shaped man, Alice wonders why someone so fragile would sit on such a high and narrow wall. Humpty Dumpty explains that he can always be put back together again in the event of an accident. Further discussion ensues, reminiscent of Clinton's Paula Jones deposition and his grand jury testimony:</p>
<p></p>
<p>&quot;When <em>I</em> use a word,&quot; Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, &quot;it means just what I choose it to mean--neither more nor less.&quot;</p>
<p></p>
<p>&quot;The question is,&quot; said Alice, &quot;whether you CAN make words mean so many different things.&quot;</p>
<p></p>
<p>&quot;The question is,&quot; said Humpty Dumpty, &quot;which is to be master--that's all.&quot;</p>
<p></p>
<p>Alice has a predictable reaction to this sophistry:</p>
<p></p>
<p>&quot;Of all the unsatisfactory people I EVER met--&quot;</p>
<p></p>
<p>She never finished the sentence, for at this moment a heavy crash shook the forest from end to end.</p>Sun, 20 Dec 1998 08:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/12/a_question_of_character.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-12-20T08:30:00ZCan even the great works of world literature explain Bill Clinton?TechnologyA Question of Character11281Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/11281falsefalsefalseA Question of CharacterA Question of CharacterArt Heavenhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/12/art_heaven.html
<p> One of the most enduring and least questioned assumptions of modern cultural criticism is that American capitalism is bad for art. There are many variations on this prejudice. Perhaps the oldest is the Tocquevillean strain, which contends that American art and literature are bound to be inferior because they depend on the largess of crass nouveaux riches rather than of cultivated aristocrats. There is a Marxist strain, which asserts that artists are alienated from their labor under capitalism, and a Frankfurt School strain, which argues that a market economy produces a banal and degraded popular culture.</p>
<p>The leading opponent of this whole family of assumptions is Tyler Cowen, an economist at George Mason University and the author of a book titled <em>In Praise of Commercial Culture</em>, which was published earlier this year. Capitalism, Cowen contends, is not only not anti-culture, it is the best of all possible systems for culture. He describes his position as &quot;cultural optimism,&quot; in answer to what he sees as the long-dominant position of &quot;cultural pessimism.&quot; In his book, Cowen make a spirited case that the free market does the best job of supporting large numbers of artists, encouraging them to create high-quality work, and making the best work widely available. The United States, he believes, is a kind of art paradise, offering a &quot;parade of successful and diverse cultural products.&quot; This analysis is provocative and interesting enough to take seriously, even though I think it's off base.</p>
<p>Cowen approaches culture the way that you might expect an economist of libertarian leanings to approach it--as entrepreneurial activity. According to his rational-choice view of art, Michelangelo, Mozart, and Shakespeare were all trying to maximize their income and returns to ego by means of self-expression. Cowen, who apparently spends a great deal of time consuming culture, supports his thesis with a pretty impressive range of evidence. With polymathic perversity, he moves from Florentine artisanship to French Salon painting to the early days of R &amp; B as he collects interesting tidbits to support his case that the state smothers artists while the market provides for them.</p>
<p>Cowen sometimes sounds a bit ridiculous; he flaunts his tastes like someone desperate to impress a date. When it comes to music, he is a fan of Kraftwerk, <em>Showboat</em>, Morton Feldman, the Beach Boys, Brahms, &quot;the music of the Pygmies of Central Africa,&quot; Benny Goodman, Niggaz With Attitude, <em>early </em>Philip Glass, the Clash, and the works of Giovanni Palestrina performed on original instruments. Cowen's Web site lists his favorite authors, musicians, movies, and artists (Diego Vel&aacute;zquez, Piet Mondrian, Damien Hirst), and offers his reviews of nearly every restaurant in the Washington area. The names he drops sometimes crash and break. Paul Fussell is not in fact an English snob (though he tries to sound like one), Isaac Bashevis Singer is not an exemplar of &quot;the continental novel of ideas,&quot; and Daniel Bell is not a neoconservative.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On the whole, however, Cowen marshals his catholic taste effectively. To him, cultural variety is the essence of cultural vitality. And he is persuasive in arguing that capitalism fosters the vast panoply of forms and expressions he enjoys. In 1947, there were 85,000 books in print in the United States. In 1996, the number was 1.3 million. In the same span, 357 publishers have turned into an incredible 49,000, many of which exist to make arty and noncommercial literature available. Elsewhere, Cowen notes that CDs of works by even obscure contemporary classical composers can be found for sale in suburban shopping malls. Contra the cultural pessimists, Cowen believes that great and enduring art is being created all over the place--even if it will only become clear with the passage of time what it is.</p>
<p> Yet the larger picture of cultural health offered here is seriously flawed. The problem begins with Cowen's praise for the United States as a country in which the arts are privately supported, as opposed to Western European countries, where culture is subsidized and protected. Cowen is right about the National Endowment for the Arts debate--it's foolish to believe the fate of American civilization hinges on the tiny amount the federal government spends on direct arts subsidies. But he fails to appreciate the extent to which the arts in this country are funded with indirect government subsidies, mainly tax deductibility of charitable contributions. Cowen may feel that this is preferable to the European system of direct support because it is less meddlesome. But he can't pretend that it's not a public contribution of several billion dollars a year, which keeps a vast number of otherwise nonviable cultural institutions in business and supplements the market's production of pop culture with more esoteric art of the kind he responds to.</p>Sun, 13 Dec 1998 08:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/12/art_heaven.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-12-13T08:30:00ZThe economist Tyler Cowen thinks we live in a cultural paradise. Do we?TechnologyArt Heaven10600Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/10600falsefalsefalseArt HeavenArt HeavenGive That Man Another Guggenheim!http://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/12/give_that_man_another_guggenheim.html
<p><em>At the End of the Century: One Hundred Years of Architecture</em><br /><br />By Richard Koshalek, Zeynep Celik, Jean-Louis Cohen, Elizabeth A.T. Smith, and Beatriz Colomina<br /><br />Harry N. Abrams; 352 pages; $65<br /><br /><br /><br /><em>Frank O. Gehry: The Complete Works</em><br /><br />By Francesco Dal Co and Kurt W. Forster<br /><br />Monacelli Press; 596 pages; $75</p>
<p> There's no official ranking of architect status. But there is an unofficial score, which can be found in <em>At the End of the Century: One Hundred Years of Architecture</em>, the newly published catalog of an exhibition put together by the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art. In the back of this hefty volume is an index, which affords a rough-and-ready estimate of who's up and who's down at the moment. The name of Robert A.M. Stern is nowhere to be found. I.M. Pei has but one reference, as does Michael Graves. The trendy Iraqi-born British architect Zaha Hadid garners two. More established names such as Peter Eisenman, Richard Meier, Richard Rogers, and Renzo Piano rate four mentions each. Rem Koolhas and Cesar Pelli have five. Tadao Ando gets eight, Philip Johnson nine, Robert Venturi 11. Frank Gehry has 32. So highly is Gehry rated by the seven architectural historians who contribute essays to the catalog that he beats out even Frank Lloyd Wright (27) and Ludwig Mies van der Rohe (31). Only Le Corbusier (104) ranks higher. That Gehry is our greatest living architect and one of the very greatest the century has produced is by no means an eccentric opinion these days. Gehry has, in the last several years, won every prize known to architecture and has been written about with rhapsodic, if sometimes flaky, enthusiasm. Last year, the <em>New York Times</em>' architecture critic, Herbert Muschamp, celebrated Gehry's design for the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain (1991-97), as &quot;the reincarnation of Marilyn Monroe.&quot; Philip Johnson, in a recent interview with <em>Metropolis</em>, said that the Bilbao had made him weep repeatedly.</p>
<p> This kind of hype can't but make you suspicious. How did the 69-year-old Gehry vault over his contemporaries? Until 20 years ago, he was unknown even in his hometown of Los Angeles. Before the Bilbao opened, he was hardly a household name outside of Los Angeles, often dismissed by colleagues as a jokester and an impractical artiste. One building changed all that. But as a new book of his complete works illustrates, Gehry's reputation rests on far more than his grand slam in northern Spain. The Bilbao was the culmination of a great creative unfolding, which was taking place without much public notice, as Gehry's lesser contemporaries received far more public attention. His work deserves not just accolades but understanding. Herewith, an introduction. Born in Toronto and raised mostly in Los Angeles, Gehry was for the entire first part of his career very much a California architect. (He still hasn't built anything in New York City, though Thomas Krens, the director of the Guggenheim, wants to commission Gehry to build yet another branch of the museum on the Hudson River piers.) After dropping out of Harvard's Graduate School of Design and working for a few frustrating years as part of a corporate practice, he launched his own firm in 1962. What first distinguished his work was its locally inspired idealism. Gehry used humble, unlikely materials to build inexpensive houses in a sun-drenched climate. He employed chain-link fencing for shading; asphalt for kitchen floors; galvanized, corrugated steel for walls; and used corrugated cardboard to make furniture.</p>
<p> The first of his buildings to attract widespread attention was Gehry's own house in Santa Monica, Calif. Taking an ordinary pink bungalow, Gehry blew it up and froze the explosion in midair. Glass skylights burst out on unexpected trajectories; a corrugated steel frame, half the height of the house, envelops the fa&ccedil;ade. In subsequent years, Gehry continued to be more interested in building homes for middle-class people than for the wealthy ones who increasingly clamored to be his clients. A wonderful example of this is the whimsical <u><a href="http://www.kulturnet.dk/homes/gldok/calif/build/norton.htm">Norton residence</a></u> in Venice, Calif., a house decorated like a beachfront seafood restaurant, which was built on a budget of $150,000. &nbsp;&nbsp; What's fascinating about these projects is the way Gehry cracks open the structure of a building, jumbling its interior and exterior. This was sometimes connected with a movement called &quot;deconstructionist&quot; architecture, but Gehry followed no program and belonged to no school. If his work has an affinity for an artistic movement, it would have to be the Cubism of Georges Braque and Pablo Picasso. It is as if Gehry was analyzing spatial volumes, then separating and reassembling them in a previously unknown way. As his work developed in the early 1980s, his disassembly of architectural structure became increasingly radical and, simultaneously, more elegant. Perhaps the best example of this is his Winston guest house (1982-87), in Wayzata, Minn. Each room becomes its own building; the minibuildings recombine to form another building. In Gehry's public work, you see this process in the <u><a href="http://www.bluffton.edu/~sullivanm/gehryloyola/gehryloyola.html">Loyola University Law School</a></u> in Los Angeles, a long-term project that began in 1978 and continued through the 1980s. There is an intellectualism to these works that is not the theory-driven kind that dominated East Coast architecture during the same period. Gehry's intelligence is visual and spatial. His rooms talk to each other, creating a feeling of intimacy and community.</p>
<p> The other big impulse in his artistry is less cerebral and more playful. In the late 1970s, Gehry began working with the pop artist Claes Oldenburg; the two later collaborated on the <u><a href="http://www.kulturnet.dk/homes/gldok/calif/buildoth/chiat.htm">Chiat/Day Building</a></u>, an advertising agency with a giant pair of binoculars in front of it. Oldenburg's surrealism seemed to encourage Gehry to plumb the depths of his own imagination, where he found--a fish. In 1981, Gehry designed a giant sculpture of a fish standing on its tail to occupy an atrium. The following year he put giant illuminated fish in a restaurant in Venice, Calif. He made fish lamps and sculpted the model for a kettle with fish for spout and handles. The first exhibition of Gehry's work, which took place in Minneapolis in 1986, was entered through the body of a giant fishlike structure. In numerous interviews, Gehry has credited this figure to his grandmother, who kept live carp in the family's bathtub in preparation for making gefilte fish. Yet the symbolism seems Christian as well as Jewish. Gehry's fish is a savior, a perfect organic form that rescues architecture from modernist sterility. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; In a number of sculptures, a coiled snake joined the fish. Soon, these t wo animal shapes began to appear in Gehry's buildings in a more abstract and gestural way. You can read the Bilbao (which I have seen only in photographs, alas) as an evolved version of the pairing. The coiled snake is centered over the atrium, its head projecting up as a blunt skylight. The fish stretches out horizontally along the riverbank. The building's titanium skin, which reflects a shimmering, multicolored light, recalls scales. These forms are not gimmicks that a visitor is supposed to &quot;get.&quot; They are figures buried deep in the form of the building, which yields not an explicit metaphor (as in an Eero Saarinen building) but a manifold suggestiveness. Some people look at Bilbao and see a ship with high sails. Others see a flower. In even more recent designs, Gehry has worked from the form of a horse's head, which now has a number of plastic variations, though none of these buildings has been completed.</p>
<p> In the later 1980s, as Gehry the Californian became more of an international figure, the two main elements in his work--the deconstructive and the animal-sculptural--began to come together in a truly inspired way. I would describe this style as zoomorphic Cubism, the organic and angular combining to spectacular, mind-expanding effect. You see this in the museums and concert halls that display his talent at its height. In addition to the Bilbao, there are the <u><a href="http://www.sto.co.at/htmger/obj104.htm">Vitra Design Museum</a></u> in Germany (1987-89), the <u><a href="http://www.bluffton.edu/~sullivanm/gehrytoledo/gehry.html">Toledo Museum of Art</a></u> in Ohio (1989-92), the Weisman Art Museum in Minneapolis (1990-93), and the in-progress <u><a href="http://www.kulturnet.dk/homes/gldok/calif/build/waltdis.htm">Walt Disney Concert Hall</a></u> in Los Angeles. In his most recent plans, such as the Experience Music&nbsp;Project in Seattle (under construction), the Bard College Performing Arts Center in Annandale-on-Hudson, N.Y. (unbuilt), and the Samsung Art Museum in Korea (abandoned), these two strains reach an even greater unity. Though practically attainable--the Bilbao was built according to schedule and on budget--these structures seem like wonderfully impossible Expressionist fantasies. None of Gehry's contemporaries has anything like his range or refined artistic temperament. They try to be playful and descend into postmodern kitsch, as Graves does. They try to be important and wander into thickets of theory, as Eisenman, who has published his correspondence with Jacques Derrida, does. Gehry can be successfully jokey and serious at the same time. Where many modern architects talk to each other, Gehry creates for a much wider audience. In so doing, he is restoring passionate public interest to a field that a decade ago seemed to be losing it. He has earned his 32 mentions, and then some.</p>Sun, 06 Dec 1998 08:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/12/give_that_man_another_guggenheim.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-12-06T08:30:00ZHow Frank Gehry became our greatest architect.TechnologyGive That Man Another Guggenheim!9799Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/9799falsefalsefalseGive That Man Another Guggenheim!Give That Man Another Guggenheim!The Semi-Conductorhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/11/the_semiconductor.html
<p> In many fields, growing old means cutting back on your professional responsibilities. But for orchestra conductors, figures of mythic virility and longevity, advancing age seems only to entail taking on more obligations. Consider Kurt Masur, the 71-year-old music director of the New York Philharmonic. Last week, it was announced that, beginning in 2000, Masur would become the principal conductor of the London Philharmonic. In London, the <em>Guardian</em> reported that the German maestro would, naturally, be resigning his New York position, which pays him $1.3 million a year. But the paper was forced to print a correction: Masur is not leaving New York. He will be conducting in both cities until at least 2002, when his New York contract expires.</p>
<p></p>
<p>With just two big jobs, Masur is far from the busiest of the big guns. The title probably belongs to Pl&aacute;cido Domingo, the globetrotting tenor. Anticipating the decline of his prolific singing career--he's 57, and most voices don't last past the early 60s--Domingo has pursued a sideline in opera conducting. In 1996, he was appointed artistic director of the Washington Opera. Nov. 1 it was announced that he would also be replacing the retiring director of the Los Angeles Opera. Domingo intends to run both institutions without cutting back on his performance schedule at the Metropolitan Opera and elsewhere, his &quot;Three Tenors&quot; concerts with Luciano Pavarotti and Jos&eacute; Carreras, his recording calendar, or his bookings as a guest <em>symphony</em> conductor. Perhaps the paella will suffer at Domingo, a Spanish restaurant he owns in midtown Manhattan.</p>
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<p>Domingo's helicopter-to-rehearsal lifestyle is now the model for conductors whose salaries often match those of star athletes and CEOs. Norman Lebrecht of the London <em>Daily Telegraph</em>, perhaps the only music critic with much of an instinct for sleuthing, has unearthed some of the closely guarded salaries. In 1996, the conductor Lorin Maazel earned $4.5 million, including $1 million as the chief conductor of the Pittsburgh Symphony and an additional $2.7 million from the Bavarian State Radio Orchestra. The pianist-conductor Daniel Barenboim earns $3 million or more as music director in Chicago, artistic director and general music director of the Deutsche Staatsoper Berlin, and as a touring conductor with both the Berlin and the Vienna philharmonics. Perhaps most amazing is Charles Dutoit, who serves as artistic director of the Montreal Symphony Orchestra, musical director of the Orchestra National de France, and the artistic director and principal conductor of the Philadelphia Orchestra's summer season in Saratoga. In his spare time, Dutoit likes to ... guest conduct.</p>
<p> Such hall hopping undeniably adds to the wealth and fame of the world's top conductors. But is it good for music? The era of the ludicrously prodigious maestro has coincided with a sense of unease about the state of the symphony, especially in the United States. Many orchestras are in poor financial shape, faced with rising costs, declining box office revenues, and a cutback in public subsidies. At the New York Philharmonic and elsewhere, labor and administrative conflict seems perpetual. And among people with long musical memories, there is a general feeling that while this may be a period of high competence, it is not a great moment for orchestras or conductors. A common complaint is that the sound of the big five American symphonies--New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Cleveland, and Chicago--while still of extremely high quality, is more and more homogenized. Might these phenomena--the lackluster symphonic scene and the overbooked conductor--be related?</p>
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<p>The great American orchestras were built by conductors who by today's standards would be hopeless homebodies. The Boston Symphony was honed and polished by the Russian exile Serge Koussevitsky, who conducted 100 concerts a year for 25 years until 1949 and was midwife to the creation of great works by Stravinsky, Schoenberg, and Copland. The Philadelphia Orchestra was led by Leopold Stokowski, who reigned supreme for 26 years until 1938, when Eugene Ormandy succeeded him--and stayed for 42. George Szell had a similar role in shaping Cleveland into a great musical city, as did Fritz Reiner in Chicago. These men might travel to Europe for the summer festival season, but they lived in the cities in which they played. They auditioned musicians personally and knew them well. If a guest conductor visited Philadelphia, you would probably find Ormandy backstage or in the audience. Today, by contrast, conductors tend to have a much more tenuous relationship with their home cities. Rather than live in some backwater, they jet in and out for rehearsals and conduct 30 performances a year there instead of 100. For nine months at a stretch, they are somewhere else.</p>
<p> The musician who first set this pace was the ex-Nazi Herbert von Karajan, who in the late 1950s was simultaneously principal conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic, the Vienna State Opera, and the Salzburg festival. Von Karajan's ricocheting around Europe stoked an epic recording career and helped build an estate that was worth $300 million when he died in 1989. There is no one so dominant now, but Karajan remains the model for the hyperactive batons of Maazel, Barenboim, Zubin Mehta, Riccardo Muti, Seji Ozawa, and Claudio Abbado. These conductors compete in a kind of orchestral arms race. The advent of jet travel--and supersonic jet travel--has made it possible for them to work virtually simultaneously not just in several cities but on several continents. The ambition of the conductor is abetted by the avarice of the agent, who receives a commission of up to 20 percent on the fees and salaries he negotiates. The most powerful of these is the reclusive Ronald Wilford of Columbia Artists Management International, who manages the world's leading conductors and uses his market power to drive fees ever higher.</p>
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<p>There are a few honorable exceptions to the orchestra-collecting trend. Perhaps the most admirable is Simon Rattle, who took the insignificant Birmingham Symphony Orchestra and, over a period of 16 years, developed it into a distinguished ensemble. Despite many lucrative offers, Rattle has been loath to even spend much time visiting elsewhere. Rattle has now stepped down from the podium at Birmingham and is weighing offers. It is expected that he will again choose to work with one orchestra rather than several. Michael Tilson Thomas, who in 1995 became the music director of the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra, draws praise for doing more than hanging his hat there. Finland-born Esa-Pekka Salonen gets high marks for his commitment to the Los Angeles Philharmonic, as does Leonard Slatkin at Washington's National Symphony.</p>
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<p>Why would an orchestra prefer an overpaid, absentee landlord like Muti or Abbado to a dedicated resident, especially given that the latter is likely to come much cheaper? Partly, it's the battle for prestige. A provincial orchestra with an off-brand conductor seems doubly provincial. But the bigger issue is finance. Orchestra boards believe that a star like Muti sells tickets, even to the majority of concerts he doesn't conduct. And even the occasional presence of a musical superstar makes it much easier to raise money. At a recent fund-raiser, the Washington Opera took in an extraordinary $2.6 million, thanks to the charming presence of Domingo.</p>
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<p>There are many more orchestras than there used to be and arguably fewer great conductors. The result has been a bidding war for top talent and an opportunity to make money that few can resist. The recent transformation of the conductor's career parallels what has happened elsewhere in the economy. As the income of top performers of all kinds has risen exponentially, the old patterns of indenture have fallen away. The ability of a Zubin Mehta ($6 million plus per year) or a Charles Barkley ($4.6 million) to make really big money has led to a system of free agency. In basketball, where teams are constituted by the season, each player looking out for his own career doesn't appear to harm the overall quality of the game. But in symphonic music, where great achievement comes from teamwork over a much longer time frame, the moonlighting maestro is playing too fast.</p>Sun, 22 Nov 1998 08:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/11/the_semiconductor.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-11-22T08:30:00ZA great conductor used to lead an orchestra. These days he leads two or three.TechnologyThe Semi-Conductor8798Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/8798falsefalsefalseThe Semi-ConductorThe Semi-ConductorA Hundred Years of Lassitudehttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/11/a_hundred_years_of_lassitude.html
<p> In 1963, Edmund Wilson published an &quot;interview&quot; with himself in the second issue of the <em>New York Review of Books</em>. The subject was why a new intellectual journal was needed and how it came to be. &quot;The disappearance of the <em>Times</em> Sunday book section at the time of the printers' strike only make us realize it had never existed,&quot; Wilson explained.</p>
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<p>I'm not sure what it means that this remark is quoted without comment in the new anthology that commemorates 100 years of the <em>New York Times Book Review</em>. Wilson was saying the <em>Times</em> book section was relentlessly dull. Does the <em>Times</em> agree? The 650 page greatest-hits collection, I'm afraid, supports the criticism. For all the effect it has had on the country's literature, the <em>Times</em> Sunday book section might as well never have existed. Today, 35 years after Wilson's jibe, it remains the drab wallpaper of the book world. If it vanished in another strike, it is hard to think many people would miss it.</p>
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<p>Why is the <em>NYTBR</em> so dreary? Michael Wolff, the media columnist of <em>New York</em> magazine<em>,</em> wrote an article a few weeks ago complaining that the section fails to capitalize on the new commercial environment in which books are marketed and sold. He thinks the <em>NYTBR</em> could make more money by being less independent. I kept waiting for Wolff to say he was joking, but apparently he wasn't. The <em>Times</em> deserves to be congratulated, not scolded, for its determination to avoid pandering to the trade by reviewing self-help manuals or boosting Oprah's book club.</p>
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<p>But high-mindedness only gets you so far. The real problem with the <em>NYTBR</em>, for the 15 years or so that I have been reading it without much pleasure, is its aversion to argument and controversy. Pick up just about any issue and what you'll find is a kind of literary balm--a quietly reverential attitude toward books in general, combined with a disinclination to ruffle feathers. Charles &quot;Chip&quot; McGrath, the editor since 1995, has elevated the tone somewhat. More distinguished authors contribute longer reviews about weightier books. But somehow, the section still feels dutiful. It reads as if the people writing for it and editing it aren't having any fun and don't think readers should either.</p>
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<p>Magazine editors generally try to make articles as interesting as possible and to make them look even more interesting than they are. At the <em>NYTBR</em>, the principle seems to be reversed: Avoid anything too interesting and, if you happen to get it anyhow, disguise it. On the cover, where the widely read &quot;lead&quot; review once began, there is now a reliably hideous full-page color illustration accompanied by a generic headline. &quot;Artist of Adventure,&quot; says the cover of the issue that comes out on Sunday. This is the billing for a new biography of N.C. Wyeth, the illustrator whose family saga is a tasty, Gothic tale--something of which you get no hint unless you read all the way through the &quot;jump.&quot; The review is by Adam Gopnik, one of the funniest writers around. But somehow, it feels as if his talent is being withheld. You read the review and wish the author felt he could cut loose.</p>
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<p>The rest of the 75 page section contains a mix of strong writers being stifled (or perhaps pre-emptively stifling themselves) and weak ones being given too much space to say too little. This issue contains 21 regular reviews, 30 reviews of children's books in a special section, 11 brief reviews, 11 more paperback reviews, and a roundup of new science fiction titles. Covering 70 plus books in a week (the usual number is more like 40 to 50) pleases the <em>NYTBR</em>'s advertisers in the publishing houses by providing much fertile territory for blurb mining. But the rest of us are drowning. Inside the back page, there's one article that's not a review, the &quot;Bookend.&quot; This week's column is by Meghan Daum, a free-lance writer who says she can't figure out a topic to write a book about. The reader, staggering across the finish line, can only pray that she doesn't.</p>
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<p>People who write for the <em>NYTBR</em> all have stories about how the section resists strong criticism and colorful writing. The problem starts with the bias in favor of specialists. An assistant professor of philosophy given a new biography of David Hume is likely to assume an interest in the subject and focus on the significance of the book to his field. A good intellectual journalist given the same assignment would probably focus more on the question of Hume's relevance today and whether the book is interesting to a nonphilosopher. McGrath seems to have tipped the balance a bit in the direction of journalists. But since good manners are the rule, the generalists often end up sounding as obtuse as the experts. In the current issue, for instance, a review of a book about Wal-Mart says the author can't make up his mind about whether Wal-Mart is good or bad. But the reviewer can't make up her mind either and passes up the opportunity to say something--anything--about a company that has transformed American culture. The result is waffling squared.</p>
<p> The tried and true formula for an 800 word review is to meander on the general topic for three paragraphs, summarize the book in four more, note a flaw in the penultimate paragraph, and close with an upbeat summation on the order of &quot;Still, <em>Moon Over Nova Scotia</em> is a valuable contribution to our understanding of the shifting fortunes of the Atlantic eel fishing industry.&quot; The new anthology includes a review of <em>Mein Kampf</em> from 1933 that follows this form. It spends three paragraphs pondering German history, four describing the intelligent Mr. Hitler's book, and ends with a complaint about his dislike of the Jews, which the reviewer regards as a flaw in an otherwise impressive list of accomplishments. (Click for a sample of this wacko analysis.)</p>
<p> E xcessive negativity has evidently always been discouraged. Most reviewers have figured out that raves are often played big. But if the reviewer trashes a book, especially one that is in any way marginal, the odds diminish that his review will be published. If it does run, it will probably be in the back, near the ads for electric toothbrushes and the Itty Bitty Book Light. Moreover, editors are likely to blunt the criticism in a backhanded way. They may, for instance, as I heard from one contributor, apologize for having to cut a reviewer's most clever lines &quot;for space.&quot; How much easier, then, to be agreeable.</p>
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<p>Why would a newspaper section avoid conflict, the mother's milk of journalism? I think the instinct stems from the paper's not unrealistic sense of its own power and responsibility. Though the <em>NYTBR</em> can't hurt Tom Clancy and probably can't help most academic specialists, for a lot of writers in between, not getting reviewed in the <em>Times</em> or receiving a harsh review can nail the coffin shut. Other publications can be cavalier without worrying about squashing an author's budding career. The giant <em>Times</em> can't.</p>
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<p>So the review has grown a large bureaucracy designed to prevent any unfairness. Half a dozen &quot;Preview&quot; editors leaf through the hundreds of books published each week to choose the lucky few that are worth reviewing, relegating some to the &quot;Books in Brief&quot; section in the back. They then look for someone qualified to write on the subject, but without any bias. No one who is a friend, enemy, colleague, or rival of the author is supposed to get an assignment. Pre-McGrath, it was even forbidden to review a book published by one's own publishing company. This near cult of fairness prevents conflicts, but it also prevents interest. And the bureaucratic approach prevents the section as a whole from taking positions on--or creating--literary issues. Are biographies too long? Does women's fiction get short shrift? Is academic literary criticism headed down a blind alley? The <em>NYTBR</em> isn't just agnostic on such questions--it doesn't even like to consider them.</p>
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<p>It's instructive to contrast this with the approach of the leading British papers. The book review sections of the <em>Sunday Times</em>, <em>Sunday Telegraph</em>, and <em>Observer</em>, as well as the <em>Times Literary Supplement</em> and the delightful <em>London Review of Books</em>, look to conflicts to generate interest. The famous letter to the <em>Times</em>--&quot;Sirs, of all the people who might have reviewed my book, could you not find one who was not my former wife?&quot;--may be apocryphal. But it gets at the spirit of British reviewing, which is that the sometimes petty clash of literary opinion is good sport. Regular Sunday reviewers, on the model of Cyril Connolly, the longtime critic for the <em>Sunday Times</em>, become trusted guides. And the British book reviews are more like publications revolving around literary life than mere reviews. They contain diaries, poems, puzzles, and interviews. The best book review section in an American paper at the moment--the <em>Los Angeles Times Book Review</em>--is much closer to this variety model.</p>
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<p>The <em>NYTBR</em> could make itself more interesting by going halfway British. My suggestion would be to drop the rules against conflicts of interest in favor of a simple one that says material biases should be disclosed. Hire a regular columnist to write every Sunday. (The prodigious James Wood, the most gifted literary critic of his generation, springs to mind.) Lose the dismal cover illustrations and return to having a lead review or cover essay. Break the monotony of 25 sequential reviews with full-length author interviews (which the <em>Times</em> used to have), letters from abroad, debates, and a gossip column. Encourage a feisty letters page. Blow off the brief reviews. Take chances. Crusade. Quit being so damned responsible.</p>Sun, 15 Nov 1998 08:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/11/a_hundred_years_of_lassitude.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-11-15T08:30:00ZWill the New York Times Book Review bore readers for another century?TechnologyA Hundred Years of Lassitude8109Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/8109falsefalsefalseA Hundred Years of LassitudeA Hundred Years of LassitudeA Wolf in Wolfe's Clothinghttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/11/a_wolf_in_wolfes_clothing.html
<p> Tom Wolfe has always been explicit about what he thinks a novel should be. He published essays expounding these views in 1973, before he ever wrote a novel, then again in 1989, after <em>Bonfire of the Vanities</em> became a huge best seller. American writers should do what they used to do, he argued in &quot;Stalking the Billion-Footed Beast,&quot; his 1989 manifesto published in <em>Harper's</em>. They should depict the mad multiplicity of contemporary life. Wolfe chastised his fellow novelists for abandoning the rich material at their doorstep in exchange for interiority, minutiae, and meta-fiction.</p>
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<p>There are flaws in this argument, not the least of them Wolfe's assumption that only realistic narrative can portray the world persuasively. Twentieth century American writers who have depicted large swaths of society in experimental prose include John Dos Passos, William Faulkner, and Thomas Pynchon. But I do think Wolfe has a point when he argues that reports of the death of the traditional novel--the plot-driven epic--have been greatly exaggerated. As <em>Bonfire</em> demonstrated, the form retains great vitality and has the potential to reach a vast, underserved audience. But strangely, despite the commercial success of that book, no other writer has responded to the call. There is no School of Wolfe novel. Wolfe remains a flourishing one-man literary movement.</p>
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<p>Tom Wolfe's second novel obeys all the strictures set down in Tom Wolfe's essays. It is, in fact, strikingly similar to his first novel--in subject matter, structure, and theme. The protagonist of <em>A Man in Full</em> is a white businessman who lives in sumptuous surroundings that include a pretty wife whom he seems to need to be introduced to. The year is 1991 not 1986, the city is Atlanta not New York, and Charlie Croker is a real estate developer not an investment banker. But like Sherman McCoy, Croker is a Master of the Universe who has run into a heap o' trouble. Having erected a megalomaniac monument to his own ego, a lavish see-through office tower in the distant outskirts, Croker finds that his company's assets are suddenly less than its liabilities. Vultures circle the hero, who is not inclined to surrender. As in <em>Bonfire</em>, a high society plot and a low society plot chug toward each other. There is the same theme of legal error and even some of the same jokes, such as a reference to the heavy metal band &quot;Pus Casserole.&quot; Wolfe's style is still Wolfe's style. Animal Spirits! Pizza Grenade ties! I didn't tally up exclamation points, but it must be ... hundreds. <em>Hundreds!</em> Heh-hegggggggghhhhhhhh!</p>
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<p>Wolfe's fictional craft has improved. His major characters--namely the failing honcho Croker and the gimlet-eyed Mayor Wes Jordan--are more human and less caricature, though the minor ones, including all the women, are still cartoons. Wolfe's take on what makes the world go around is still highly reductive. Business is about virility, politics about manipulation, women about men's sexual interest--something men have no control over. But the author's understanding of psychology has developed a greater degree of nuance. The description of Croker's withdrawal from his problems into illness and depression, late in the book, is surprisingly tender--for Wolfe.</p>
<p> T here are also scenes in the new book that constitute journalism as good as any that Wolfe as done. The description of work inside a frozen foods warehouse, where wheezing lugs destroy their health hefting 80 pound ice bricks of fish sticks, is worthy of Upton Sinclair's <em>The Jungle</em>. The recounting of a brutal &quot;workout&quot; session, in which bankers try to break a defaulting debtor down psychologically, is brilliantly drawn, as are the scenes set in a dehumanized Oakland prison. In Wolfe's tour from the suite to the streets, you search in vain for false notes.</p>
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<p>Nonetheless, there's something off about Wolfe the novelist that's hard to put a finger on. I was borne along very merrily, and in fact wanted to do little else but read the novel until I was finished. But this book didn't affect me in any lasting way, the way a novel by one of Wolfe's 19<sup>th</sup> century heroes can. For some reason, <em>A Man in Full</em>, like <em>Bonfire</em>, remains sophisticated entertainment rather than literature. The problem may be writing that proceeds from a theory. Wolfe uses the novel as a vessel for his social reportage. At moments it seems the wrong container. He has a tendency to try to cram too many tiny figures into an overcrowded canvas. For instance, his excursion to the town outside Atlanta known as &quot;Chambodia&quot; is shoehorned in. In a few pages, Wolfe lets us know that Vietnamese immigrants live packed into tiny apartments and take odious jobs in chicken processing plants that white and black Atlantans both spurn. This is part of the teeming pluralism he wishes to convey, but it feels superfluous.</p>
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<p>But the failure goes deeper. <em>A Man in Full</em> follows the example of Charles Dickens, Honor&eacute; de Balzac, &Eacute;mile Zola, and Theodore Dreiser in its ambition to tell a big story, the kind that covers a lot of geography and captures the flavor of the age. In this Wolfe succeeds ably, infusing his tale with characteristic wit, verve, and narrative propulsion. But the 19<sup>th</sup> and early 20<sup>th</sup> century realists shared with each other a quality Wolfe lacks: a social conscience. In a famous essay, George Orwell wrote that what makes Dickens so attractive, despite his failures in characterization and a tendency toward sentimentality, is his decency. Dickens was decent in the way he wrote about people, and he recommended decency as a universal salve.</p>
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<p>Wolfe has no such compassion. There are underdogs of a kind in his books--McCoy in <em>Bonfire</em> and the good family man Conrad Hensley in <em>A Man in Full</em>. But what horrifies the reader is that these sympathetic figures should sink into America's degraded <em>lumpenproletariat</em>. The lower orders in Wolfe's novels, such as those who populate the jail where Conrad Hensley is imprisoned, are barely above the level of animals. The same goes for the ghetto-bred college football star named Fareek Fanon (in unsubtle <em>hommage</em> to Frantz Fanon, the French intellectual who championed anti-colonial violence in the 1950s). Fanon is a primitive grotesque, a grunting monster.</p>
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<p>Dickens and Zola showed their contemporary readers how social conditions led to the debasement of human beings. Wolfe has the causality running in the other direction. In his novels, prisons and ghettos reflect the low nature of their inhabitants. It is beasts that make the jungle, not the other way around. Wolfe does take us to the bombed-out block where Fanon grew up, making such a character plausible. But he gets way more juice out of the brutality such a character embodies than from exploring how he got to be that way. Woolfe brings very little indignation to bear on the society that allows this to happen. Returning from his tour of hell, he tells the rest of us that we should be shocked--not outraged. The mass of suffering humanity is a kind of flea circus, more American farce than <em>American Tragedy</em>.</p>
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<p>This coldness and lack of moral vision bring Wolfe much closer to the spirit of Evelyn Waugh than to Dickens. Waugh's 1930s novels, such as <em>Vile Bodies</em> and <em>Black Mischief</em>, are wicked fun in the strict sense. They are hilarious, but they're also slightly guilt-inducing, because the author is deeply nasty about his fellow man. Wolfe doesn't see himself as primarily a satirist. But like Waugh, he makes his fun out of snobbery. Wolfe mocks the obsession with money and status, yet at the same time, his cleverest moments come from indulging in, not just exposing, invidious distinctions and superficial judgments. The reader is led to despise one character because of his bad taste in neckties, but not to hold racism and homophobia against another.</p>
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<p>I think Wolfe is right about the potential of this kind of novel, one that takes us through unexplored precincts of our own society while spinning a good yarn. But society awaits a popular novelist who is a writer in full--one with Wolfe's eye and a heart to go with it.</p>Sun, 08 Nov 1998 08:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/11/a_wolf_in_wolfes_clothing.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-11-08T08:30:00ZCan a heartless novelist ever be great?TechnologyA Wolf in Wolfe's Clothing7373Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/7373falsefalsefalseA Wolf in Wolfe's ClothingA Wolf in Wolfe's ClothingSplat, Spackle, Plop!http://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/11/splat_spackle_plop.html
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<p><em>(posted Saturday, Oct. 31, 1998)</em></p>
<p> The first powerful experience I remember having while looking at art was in the Jackson Pollock room at the Museum of Modern Art. I was 13 or so, and we were on a family visit to New York. Overwhelming everything else in the museum was the 17 foot long <em>One: Number 31, 1950</em>, a painting that amazed and thrilled me with its scale, its spontaneity, and the intensity it radiated. I had the same feeling again when I saw <a href="http://sunsite.unc.edu/wm/paint/auth/pollock/lavender-mist/pollock.lavender-mist.jpg">Lavender Mist: Number 1, 1950</a> at the National Gallery in Washington soon thereafter.</p>
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<p>But Pollock has left me cold as an adult, and often bored. His paintings looked hollow and often sloppy and garish. Did I respond to him as an adolescent because Pollock was a misbehaved, grandiose adolescent himself? Maybe we all just had a teen crush on Pollock the art world delinquent. Or was it entombment in museums, being surrounded by the work of nonaction painters, that muffled his force and left him dead on the wall? I have been awaiting a show that would settle the issue.</p>
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<p>The Pollock retrospective that opens at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City this weekend ought to resolve all such ambivalence. With more than 200 works--pretty much every important painting Pollock did--it is a complete and authoritative presentation of his life and work. Occupying the entire third floor of the museum, it includes both a full-scale replica of Pollock's studio in the Springs, on Long Island, and a continuous showing of the fascinating films that Hans Namuth, a German &eacute;migr&eacute; photographer, made of Pollock painting at the peak of his career. The long catalog essay by the Modern's chief curator, Kirk Varnedoe, is a model of its kind, covering the salient facts of Pollock's biography, artistic development, and the critical debate about him. As an exhibition, this is one of the best I have ever seen. And it did make up my mind.</p>
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<p>In the early rooms, skepticism can't but prevail. From the time Pollock arrived in New York, in 1930, at the age of 18, until about 1946, he was casting about for a style. He loved the idea of being an artist, but his vast ambition wasn't coupled with much, or even any, talent. Through the first four rooms, we see him find and mimic mentors, some living, some dead. He first fell under the sway of Thomas Hart Benton, his teacher at the New York Art Students' League, and Albert Pinkham Ryder, essaying moonlight seascapes and moody swirls of Americana, such as <a href="http://www.theartcanvas.com/pollock.west.htm">Going West</a> (1934-38). Then Pollock apprenticed himself to the Mexican muralists, Siqueiros and Orozco, as in <a href="http://www.theartcanvas.com/pollock.knife.htm">Untitled (Naked Man With Knife)</a> (1938-41). Next he ate Picasso's dust, as in <a href="http://sunsite.unc.edu/wm/paint/auth/pollock/pollock.stenographic.jpg">Stenographic Figure</a> (1942), then Mir&oacute;'s, as in <a href="http://sunsite.unc.edu/wm/paint/auth/pollock/pollock.moby-dick.jpg">Untitled (Blue [Moby Dick])</a> (1943).</p>
<p> By 1945, when the ungifted Pollock was still struggling with the greats, the critic Clement Greenberg was already heralding him as the baby Jesus of American art, noting that &quot;he is not afraid to look ugly.&quot; Greenberg liked Pollock because of the evidence he provided for Greenberg's Marxian view of art history as a series of developing stages in which the picture plane was destined to flatten, empty, and disappear. Today Greenberg is much derided for his dogmatic views and imperial pronouncements. But as far as I can tell, he was correct in every respect: right that Pollock was ugly, right about where American Modernism was going, and right that Pollock had genius trapped inside him. What is amazing is that Greenberg could see how good Pollock would become, given how bad he was. Perhaps the most famous picture from that period is (1943). After 13 years of practice, Pollock was void in color sense, draftsmanship, composition, and handling of his materials. The painting is a kind of red herring. With its suggestive title, glyphs, and symbols, it is designed to make you think it contains more than meets the eye.</p>
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<p>But in 1946 something suddenly happened: Pollock's nauseous swirls and lugubrious slatherings stepped into a phone booth and re-emerged as his mature &quot;all-over&quot; style. You see this first in three paintings known as the &quot;Sounds in the Grass&quot; series, the best of which is <a href="http://sunsite.unc.edu/wm/paint/auth/pollock/pollock.shimmering.jpg">Shimmering Substance</a>. Pollock has said goodbye to content and seems to have found his self-confidence at last. A year later, he is flicking, dripping, pouring, and splattering, creating medium-scale works of great beauty (though still interspersed with fits of unappealing blotchiness). You don't have to read the elaborate taxonomy of his technique in the catalog to recognize that what sometimes appears as chaos is in fact the product of great control and finesse. Pollock came at the canvas with a range of tools--sticks, brushes, basters, and paint cans with holes--the effects of which he had mastered. There is chance in his paintings, but it occurs within a well-defined structure.</p>
<p> How did Pollock arrive so suddenly? I think what happened is that he threw off the heavy influence of others and stopped worrying about his lack of conventional technique. Instead, he began to express himself in the way he could, basing his craft on his abilities. The year 1947 yields a bounty of expressive work such as the gorgeous, which has the quality of a musical nocturne, its orange, yellow, black, and white filigrees spun on a thin surface of silver and unprimed canvas. In <a href="http://sunsite.unc.edu/wm/paint/auth/pollock/fathom-five/pollock.fathom-five.jpg">Full Fathom Five</a>, the murk grows more evocative; the enticing detail is a kind of small crossbow shape, in yellow and orange, glimpsed through the submarine tangle of a surface encrusted with nails, buttons, coins, and cigarette butts. In these paintings the feelings--mirth, ecstasy, confusion, awe, whatever--seem intense and distinct.</p>
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<p>It stays that way over the next few years as Pollock's scale expands toward the vast masterworks of 1950. The three greatest of his monumental canvases, hung together in a single room, have an almost overwhelming presence. Curiously, these paintings don't repay prolonged viewing--or at least they didn't for me. One follows the arcs and arabesques across the canvas, but they don't lead the eye anywhere. When you try not to follow lines, you find you can't get any purchase on the whole. This is the opposite of the experience you have looking at a Mark Rothko. You soak in a Rothko as in a warm tub. It's a meditative, spiritual experience. Pollock, by comparison, is a splash of cold water on the face. The power lies in being confronted by his paintings, not in looking for meaning in them.</p>
<p> For some reason, I wasn't much moved by the old <em>One: Number 31, 1950</em>. But, a 15 foot long monochrome work on loan from D&uuml;sseldorf, Germany, took my breath away. This is the distilled essence of Pollock's genius, a mysterious calligraphy stripped of the distraction of color or the accretion of layers of paint. In the extraordinary photographs and films Namuth made of Pollock working in 1950, you can be mesmerized by his act of creation. The agonized expression on his face looks like a kind of rapture. His dance around the canvas looks like its own hidden language.</p>
<p> What follows the incredible spree of productivity that lasted from 1947-50 is a kind of brownout. In the final two rooms of the exhibition, you see Pollock, who was suffering from depression and had relapsed into alcoholism, struggling to regain a gift that had vanished as swiftly as it had arrived. By 40, he was pretty much washed up. His career took the shape of a palindrome. looks like <em>Untitled</em> (1946). <a href="http://sunsite.unc.edu/wm/paint/auth/pollock/pollock.easter-totem.jpg">Easter and the Totem</a> (1953) collapses back to <em>Totem Lesson 1</em> (1944). Here Pollock's &quot;camouflage palette,&quot; as Varnedoe notes, &quot;gives way to carnival.&quot; The only really arresting work he did after 1950 is. With its electric brightness, this huge painting, which Pollock's friends started for him, is stunning but sad, a big smile for the camera and perhaps a kind of requiem for his earlier work. In his final painting, <em>Search</em> (1955), Pollock seems to have drifted back even further, to the period before his talent began to emerge. In his final year he binged, painted nothing, and drove his car into a tree.</p>
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<p>You can explain this flameout with whatever theory appeals to you. In clinical terms, Pollock had a productive manic phase, and he was overtaken by black dog in the days before anti-depressants. In art historical terms, he flattened the picture plane, emptied it, and then had nowhere to go. You can view him as the classic case of the doomed artist, his genius and self-destruction bound up together. My own admittedly romantic preference is to see his career as a quest for inspiration, and to say Pollock sought it long, found it briefly, and couldn't live without it.</p>Sun, 01 Nov 1998 08:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/11/splat_spackle_plop.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-11-01T08:30:00ZIs Jackson Pollock a genius, or what?TechnologySplat, Spackle, Plop!6281Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/6281falsefalsefalseSplat, Spackle, Plop!Splat, Spackle, Plop!The Modern Libraryhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/10/the_modern_library.html
<p> The battle over Internet censorship has taken up residence in your neighborhood public library. Conservatives in Congress and elsewhere are demanding that libraries apply &quot;filters&quot; to Internet terminals available to minors. Ernest Istook, a Republican representative from Oklahoma, recently proposed denying federal funds to any library that fails to use filters. Istook's amendment wound up on the cutting room floor when the budget bill was finalized this week, but it may re-emerge next year. Meanwhile in Virginia, someone has sued his local library for filtering Internet content. In California, someone else has sued hers for not doing so. The American Library Association, along with the American Civil Liberties Union, takes the absolutist position that any restriction on library Internet access--including one narrowly tailored to keep children away from pornography--violates First Amendment freedoms.</p>
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<p>This debate became inevitable when public libraries began to get wired, a development that Al Gore and Newt Gingrich both consider crucial to our country's future, and which Bill Gates has set up a foundation to support. But down the road, public libraries face a bigger and more vexing question than this rehash of old censorship debates. Why, if libraries are growing more concerned about the provision of Internet access and less concerned about the circulation of books, must they be housed in buildings with walls? Someone who uses his neighborhood branch to surf the Net doesn't really depend on the library the way that someone who went to do research or borrow out of print books did. He merely uses an inefficient subsidy for something that is increasingly cheap and easy to do at home--and which could soon be subsidized directly at far lower expense. In other words, if the public library of the future is mainly about free online access, it's in a mess of trouble.</p>
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<p>Another technological advance threatens libraries. On Oct. 23, a company called NuvoMedia rolled out the first, first-generation digital reading device, a $500 appliance called the Rocket eBook. It's Version 1.0--expensive, a bit clunky and, according to previews, not really pleasant enough for pleasure reading. But within a few years, such devices are likely to be a viable, even preferable, way to read books. Dick Brass, Microsoft's vice president for technology development, says that the technical hurdles of screen quality and battery life have been largely surmounted. The question is how soon a comfortable device can be built for $100 and how long it will take for a large number of titles to become available. The probable answer is not long. Already, a nonprofit organization called Project Gutenberg has digitized over 1,000 public domain works ranging from <em>Paradise Lost</em> to <em>Tom Swift</em> &amp; <em>His Aerial Warship</em>. Publishers are scrambling to put current books on sale in electronic form. Brass predicts that you'll be able to get 50,000 titles electronically--more than you can find in an average Barnes &amp; Noble franchise--in two years.</p>
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<p>Of course, there are some big issues that need to be negotiated before e-books put libraries and bookstores out of business. You may be able to digitize the 16 million books in the Library of Congress for a mere billion dollars, but much of that material falls under copyright protection. While publishers accept sequential borrowings a single copy of a book from a library, they can't very well provide free universal access to everything in their catalogs. And while e-books have tremendous appeal in theory--imagine an entire library that weighs a pound, is word-searchable, and can be read in the dark (and, at long last, a copy of <strong><em>Slate</em></strong> that you can take to the bathroom)--readers simply may not cotton to them. The etopians who are certain that digital reading devices are about to take over probably underestimate the doggedness of ingrained human habits. So we should pose this as a what-if and not a what-when question. <em>If</em> electronic reading supplants print as the primary means by which people absorb written texts, what becomes of the venerable public library?</p>
<p> L ibrary workers, who recognize the possibility, are doing what people in threatened professions do. They begin from the assumption that they will always be crucially necessary and then try to figure out what they will be necessary for. Unsurprisingly, librarians have reached a consensus that technological progress demands an expansion, not a contraction, of their role. The disciples of Melvil Dewey would have you know that they are no longer underpaid scriveners on index cards. In fact, they no longer want to be called librarians at all. They're now &quot;information specialists,&quot; who understand search engines and retrieval systems and sort out good information from bad on the Internet. They aspire to the rise in status and income that computer geeks benefited from in the 1980s.</p>
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<p>It is probably true that we will need skillful librarians, and maybe even more librarians, in etopia. While doing research on the Internet can be vastly more time- and cost-efficient than doing it in the stacks, it requires a good deal of instruction. In an unfamiliar world, we need guides all the more. What is less clear is that we will need libraries--or at least the same kind of libraries we have now in the quantity we now have them.</p>
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<p>There is little cause for anyone to fret about the high-end institutions--academic, research, and specialized libraries will be no less necessary. Those who seek to understand the past are always going to want to examine original documents, manuscripts, and hard-copy publications. The novelist Nicholson Baker, an eloquent critic of what libraries have done in the name of modernization, is certainly right about how foolish many great libraries were to destroy their card catalogs after transferring them to electronic form. As Baker argued in a 1994 article in <em>The</em><em>New Yorker</em>, the old cards are not just eerily beautiful artifacts but also important historical documents. But Baker was on shakier ground in his 1996 article attacking the new, post-Gutenberg era San Francisco public library for emphasizing electronic research at the expense of old books. Why must a nonacademic library maintain, at great public expense, a vast store of volumes that no one uses?</p>
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<p>It is the more ordinary libraries--the 9,000 public and branch libraries in American towns and cities--that face a real threat of redundancy. That is not to say that these institutions don't have functions beyond lending out books. A friend of mine who used to teach in an overcrowded New York City school makes the point that for a lot of poor kids, the library is the only place to do homework after school. Public schools should provide an afternoon haven, but in the real world, they don't. It would be terrible to get rid of an institution that works without figuring out how to reproduce its effectiveness. Libraries are also places where immigrants go to take English classes and where illiterates learn to read. They are meeting places that cut against the isolation of modern life. In cities, the downtown public library is the rare place where social classes mix.</p>
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<p>But even with the reservoir of good will public libraries have, such ancillary functions aren't enough to keep them alive if their basic purpose fades. Our public libraries were built so that citizens, and especially young people, could enhance their lives through access to the written word. The day may be not so far off when we can accomplish this function better with a subsidized Internet account and a free digital reading device.</p>Sun, 25 Oct 1998 08:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/10/the_modern_library.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-10-25T08:30:00ZWill anyone borrow books in the future?TechnologyThe Modern Library5433Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/5433falsefalsefalseThe Modern LibraryThe Modern LibraryPositively Fourth-Ratehttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/10/positively_fourthrate.html
<p> All forms of appreciation suffer from a tendency toward one-upmanship. There are theater buffs who will only recommend a play that has just closed. There are art lovers who rave about paintings locked in the basement of the Hermitage. But to my mind, there are no aficionados more annoying than music mavens who prattle on about bootlegs. What a coincidence that the really great records are the ones you can't get.</p>
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<p>The most obsessive bootleg hounds are those devoted to Bob Dylan. Week after week, the otherwise delightful Ron Rosenbaum fills his <em>New York Observer</em> columns with paeans to recordings you can't hear, some of which even he hasn't heard, recordings that may not, in fact, even exist. To professor of history Sean Wilentz, writing in <em>Dissent</em>, the best Dylan song of the 1980s was the unreleased (until 1991) &quot;Blind Willie McTell.&quot; The worst offender, bar none, is rock critic Greil Marcus, who recently wrote a whole book, <em>Invisible Republic</em>, in praise of the most famous of Dylan bootlegs, the Basement Tapes. These recordings, which Dylan made with The Band in 1967 in Woodstock, N.Y., circulated clandestinely until Columbia finally released a two LP selection in 1975.</p>
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<p>Ihappen to think Marcus is right about the Basement Tapes--they're the exception to the rule of overrated bootlegs. Where he is less persuasive is in his conviction that Columbia Records is still holding back Dylan's best work. Marcus devotes seven pages of his book to the magnificence of a song titled &quot;I'm Not There,&quot; which is so underground it isn't even on the illegal Basement Tapes bootlegs. &quot;There is nothing like 'I'm Not There' ... in the rest of the basement recordings or anywhere else in Bob Dylan's career,&quot; Marcus writes, comparing it to the last page of <em>Moby Dick</em>. The real point, of course, is that try as you might, you'll never hear this song.</p>
<p> Why do these 50ish writers obsess like this about lost Dylan recordings? One reason is that Dylan is a genius whose output in the 1960s was so voluminous that no record company could keep up with it. Before he finished cutting an album, he'd have half a dozen new songs to try to squeeze in. On <em>Bob Dylan: The Bootleg Series, Volumes 1-3</em>, which Columbia released in 1991, you can hear the best of those that didn't make it. These include the uplifting, Guthrie-esque anthem &quot;<a href="http://bobdylan.com/songs/victory.html">Paths of Victory</a>&quot; and the Shakespearean ballad &quot;<a href="http://bobdylan.com/songs/curses.html">Seven Curses</a>&quot; (a version of the story in <em>Measure for</em> <em>Measure</em>), both of which were bumped from <em>The Times They Are A-Changin'</em>. These are fine songs, well worth hearing. But Dylan left them off to make room for songs such as &quot;<a href="http://bobdylan.com/songs/shipcomes.html">When the Ship Comes In</a>&quot; and &quot;<a href="http://bobdylan.com/songs/onetoomany.html">One Too Many Mornings</a>&quot;--masterpieces of American popular music that I expect people will be singing and listening to in a hundred years. Dylan in the 1960s was writing at such a pitch of inspiration that even his second-rate material is pretty fine.</p>
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<p>But the release of Dylan's second-rate material has only caused his fans to bay louder for third-rate Bob Dylan. The hype is encouraged by Columbia, which profits by releasing more and more unfinished songs, rejected versions, live recordings--and before long, voice mail messages--from its vaults. Evidence that the law of diminishing returns has set in is provided by the latest archival release, the so-called 1966 &quot;Royal Albert Hall Concert.&quot; For years, collectors have paid good money for unreliable copies of this bootleg. Now the performance, which actually took place not at the Royal Albert Hall in London but in Manchester's Free Trade Hall on May 17, 1966, is out on a two CD set, which is being sold as Volume 4 in the Dylan &quot;bootleg series.&quot;</p>
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<p>Critics are legitimately fascinated with this concert, which occurred at a crucial moment both in Dylan's career and in American cultural history. Dylan went from protest-folk to mod-rock around the same time the civil rights movement went from nonviolence to black power, soft drugs turned to hard drugs, and so on. The story begins nearly a year earlier, in July 1965, when Dylan turned up with an electric guitar at the Newport Folk Festival, enraging Pete Seeger, Alan Lomax, and various followers of the folk revival, who were only interested in &quot;authenticity&quot; and political dissent. (A hilarious, chilling document is the Stalinist-sounding &quot;open letter&quot; published by folk music commissar Irwin Silber in <em>Sing Out!</em> magazine, in which Silber accused Dylan of abandoning protest music for songs that were &quot;inner-directed ... inner-probing, self-conscious.&quot;)</p>
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<p>Dylan, though shaken by the fury of his fans, pressed ahead, trading his work shirt and jeans for a velveteen Nehru jacket and playing amplified rock 'n' roll. During the next year he was booed at nearly every stop in America and Europe. Levon Helm, the drummer for The Hawks, which was to become The Band, was driven off the tour by the abuse. Dylan dealt with the stress by ingesting huge quantities of drugs and generally acting like a bastard. At the end of the tour, he broke his neck in a motorcycle accident. He didn't perform live again until 1974, by which point, of course, the '60s were over. A lot of Dylan worshippers seem to fixate on 1965-66 as the moment before the fall of the counterculture. Like Russian scholars obsessed with the mistakes of the Kerensky government, they keep going over the familiar story, wondering if things might somehow have turned out differently.</p>
<p> The problem is that especially after this buildup, the &quot;Royal Albert Hall&quot; bootleg is disappointing. It was a reasonably good concert, but hardly an outstanding one. As he did in every concert on that tour, Dylan soloed in the first half with his acoustic guitar and harmonica and played electric guitar with his band in the second half. The first half was a concession to his fans, but it bored him silly, and you can tell. The songs themselves are beautiful. His rendition of &quot;<a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/archive/media/2001/10/39000_39018_music_dylanbbabyblue.asf">It's All Over Now, Baby Blue</a>,&quot; which some read as his farewell to the folkies, is affecting, in its drug-induced, nonsensical way. But Dylan's performance adds little to the studio version, doing nothing to explicate the obscurities of the <a href="http://bobdylan.com/songs/babyblue.html">lyrics</a>, such as why &quot;Baby Blue&quot; has reindeer armies, or where they're going home to. He strums listlessly in this ponderous 11 &frac12; minute version of &quot;<a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/archive/media/2001/10/39000_39019_music_dylanbdesolation.asf">Desolation Row</a>.&quot; The gibberish about Einstein sniffing drainpipes just reminds you that he was stoned senseless. A truly dreary nine minute rendition of &quot;Mr. Tambourine Man&quot; follows.</p>
<p> The second half of the concert begins with a rousing song called &quot;<a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/archive/media/2001/10/39000_39020_music_dylanbtellme.asf">Tell Me, Momma</a>,&quot; which Dylan never released on record, and which, after you've listened to the acoustic side, is like watching a black-and-white movie turn to color. The Band-to-be is tight and focused, and there's less burden on Dylan's <a href="http://bobdylan.com/songs/tellmemomma.html">quasinonsense lyrics</a> when they have Garth Hudson's organ behind them. It's amazing to hear booing and loud slow clapping meant to prevent Dylan from playing an electric version of &quot;<a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/archive/media/2001/10/39000_39021_music_dylanbmornings.asf">One Too Many Mornings</a>.&quot; That's Rick Danko, the bassist, singing harmony on the word &quot;behind,&quot; creating a perfect rock moment. Amazingly, half the audience hated it. At the end of the set, someone in the crowd yells out the word &quot;<a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/archive/media/2001/10/39000_39022_music_dylanbjudas.asf">Judas</a>.&quot; To which Dylan, after a pause, <a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/archive/media/2001/10/39000_39023_music_dylanbdontbelieveu.asf">responds</a> by sneering back the title of a song he just played: &quot;I Don't Believe You.&quot; Then after another pause he bellows, &quot;<a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/archive/media/2001/10/39000_39024_music_dylanbliar.asf">You're a liar!</a>&quot; before cranking into &quot;Like a Rolling Stone.&quot; He played no encores.</p>
<p> T he hostility and weirdness surrounding this tour also come across in <em>Eat the</em> <em>Document</em>, a film that has been showing at the Museum of Radio and Television in New York City to coincide with the release of the record. This hourlong work, which was commissioned by ABC but never shown, is another famous bootleg--it has circulated in <em>samizdat</em> for years--and also an overrated one. Coming after <em>Don't Look Back</em>, the superb <em>cinema v&eacute;rit&eacute;</em> documentary D.A. Pennebaker made about Dylan's previous European tour in 1965, <em>Eat the Document</em>, which was edited by Dylan himself, is a pointless coda. Other than the snippets of concert footage and a few curious glimpses, it's a mishmash of drug-addled camera confusion.</p>
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<p>Overrating Bob Dylan's unpublished fragments probably won't do any damage to his real achievement. But it is oddly disrespectful--like arguing that the rough draft of <em>The Great Gatsby</em> was better than the novel F. Scott Fitzgerald published. The tendency to prefer obscure, unproduced recordings seems like the latest version of the old folkie quest for the grail of authenticity. And it's equally wrongheaded. Dylan sang his best songs on records that came out and became instantly famous. Insisting otherwise makes him into a kind of idiot savant who could create but not choose. It elevates the critic and diminishes the artist.</p>Sun, 18 Oct 1998 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/10/positively_fourthrate.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-10-18T07:30:00ZThe latest Dylan release exposes the bootleg fallacy.TechnologyPositively Fourth-Rate4282Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/4282falsefalsefalsePositively Fourth-RatePositively Fourth-RateJesus H. Christ!http://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/10/jesus_h_christ.html
<p> The most electric moments in <em>Corpus Christi</em>, Terrence McNally's play about a gay Jesus, come when you arrive at the theater. Across the street, Catholic protestors in white berets recite Hail Marys into a megaphone. If you approach the police barricade that pens them in, they ply you with leaflets charging that the play portrays &quot;the Blessed Virgin screaming obscenely to St. Joseph for sexual relations&quot; (sadly, it doesn't). Thanks to the controversy, the entire run at the 299 seat Manhattan Theatre Club is sold out. Should you manage to lay hands on a ticket, you have to run a gauntlet of burly security guards and pass through an airport metal detector to get to your seat.</p>
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<p>The experience is disorienting--part First Amendment vigil, part X-rated movie. <em>Corpus Christi</em> became instantaneously notorious in May, when the <em>New York Post</em> revealed that it depicted a Jesus who has sex with his apostles. After receiving telephone calls threatening violence, the Manhattan Theatre Club canceled the production. But the play was reinstated a week later amid protests from nearly every important dramatist in America and many elsewhere. Since restoring the play, the Manhattan Theatre Club has been congratulating itself on its fearless defense of free expression.</p>
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<p>What a letdown, then, to finally see <em>Corpus Christi</em> and encounter neither blasphemy nor artistic courage. On the first score, the play comes up short. It is not, in fact, a work of savage (or even mild) anti-clericalism, in the tradition of the Marquis de Sade (whose every third scene involves priests and nuns performing unspeakable acts) or the films of Luis Bu&ntilde;uel (most famously <em>Viridiana</em>, with its infamous parody of the Last Supper tableau). There's no nudity or sex onstage, and though the Vatican regards the notion of a noncelibate gay Jesus as heretical, the playwright's intention is not sacrilegious. McNally's updating of the life of Jesus is much in the spirit of <em>Godspell</em>--if slightly more risqu&eacute;. But while there's nothing very shocking about <em>Corpus Christi</em>, its dramatic and intellectual thinness is stunning. McNally's real offense is invoking a great theme and an all-important principle for something as trite and banal as this.</p>
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<p>The play is in essence a gay retelling of the Gospel. Thirteen male actors perform a variety of parts in a series of sketches. In the first, Joshua, a k a Jesus, is born in a sleazy East Texas motel room (the woman screaming for sex is on the other side of a thin wall). At 1950s-era &quot;Pontius Pilate High&quot; in Corpus Christi, Texas--the town where McNally grew up--Joshua is bullied into playing football and taunted by his peers as a &quot;faggot.&quot; An encounter in the school bathroom leads to an affair with a sinister classmate named Judas. After graduation, Joshua hitchhikes across the desert and has occasional conversations with his dad, God. He performs miracles and gathers disciples. One is a doctor, another an actor, another a male prostitute. They go to gay discos and spread the Word. Joshua performs a marriage for two of the apostles. After a <em>scrumptious</em> Last Supper, Judas betrays him with a French kiss. On the cross, Joshua is mocked as &quot;King of the Queers.&quot;</p>
<p> T he staging and performances are competent, if uninspired. The real limitations are those of the writer, whose hallmarks are weak sophomoric humor and a cloying sentimentality. It's a gag line in this play when someone exclaims &quot;Jesus H. Christ!&quot; Joseph opposes naming his son Jesus, because people will thing he's a Mexican. &quot;I hear hammering,&quot; Jesus tells his mother. &quot;Of course you do,&quot; she says. &quot;Your father's a carpenter.&quot; This is silly, and not really funny, but the intent is not to ridicule. The spirit is rather one of camp reverence. McNally, who was raised a Catholic, apparently considers himself in sympathy with the deeper meaning of Christianity, which he boils down to an injunction to be nice to everybody. His setting is supposed to teach us that Jesus loves gay people, too. Lest anyone miss the point, one of the apostles appears onstage to explain it to the audience after the crucifixion. &quot;If we have offended, so be it,&quot; he declares. &quot;He belongs to us as well as you.&quot;</p>
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<p>This is weak Christian tea. Equally pallid is McNally's stereotyped portrayal of gay people. Like many of his other plays, <em>Corpus Christi</em> seems like ethnic PR, in the vein of <em>Fiddler on the Roof</em> or the movie <em>Moonstruck</em>. McNally wants to present homosexuals to heterosexuals as witty and wonderful. Though his gay characters aren't always perfect, the overall picture is of a delightful bunch of fellas. Gay men have flair, taste, and humor. They love Callas and cooking. They are sensitive and deep.</p>
<p> W here McNally fails time and again is by drawing gay people as <em>types</em> rather than complex characters. Watch the clip from the film version of <em>Frankie and Johnny</em>, for which McNally wrote the screenplay based on his own theater play. Michelle Pfeiffer's gay next-door neighbor, played by Nathan Lane, is a cut-up, whose jokes are usually variations of the theme of being a man who likes other men. In another McNally play-turned-film, the maudlin soap opera <em>Love! Valour! Compassion!</em>, Jason Alexander minces around, puts on women's clothes, and continually bursts into show tunes. Watch as he riffs on those <em>annoying</em> heterosexuals. In <em>Corpus Christi</em>, the disciple characters are thinly sketched versions of familiar clich&eacute;s: the taciturn hairdresser, the buff male hustler, the yuppie lawyer. This may be Bethlehem, but it's still <em>The Birdcage</em>.</p>
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<p>By focusing on the fact that the play portrays a Christ who has sex with his disciples, the press has encouraged a misconception about McNally's work. Most people now assume that <em>Corpus Christi</em> is an expression of ACT-UP-style radicalism--the theater of queer outrage performed with an NEA grant. But McNally wants to enlarge the bourgeoisie, not <em>&eacute;pater</em> it. <em>Corpus Christi</em>, like his other plays, is a work of unchallenging, middlebrow subscription theater on a touchy theme. Of course, there's nothing wrong with middlebrow theater if done well. Neil Simon has his place. But Neil Simon doesn't congratulate his audience for being brave enough to laugh at his jokes. And Neil Simon can be funny.</p>
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<p>The producers of the play, basking in the glow of First Amendment martyrdom, have not done much to clear up the misunderstanding. During last spring's controversy, McNally's agent Gilbert Parker was quoted complaining that no journalist had bothered to request a copy of the script of <em>Corpus Christi</em>. When I called to ask for one, Parker's office told me that it wasn't releasing it. I don't think the playwright or the theater wants people to know that the play is largely inoffensive. The <em>frisson</em> of blasphemy has resulted in an overflowing house. But were the Philistines at the barricades allowed inside, I fear they would find little to stoke their fury--or hold their interest.</p>Sat, 10 Oct 1998 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/10/jesus_h_christ.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-10-10T07:30:00ZCorpus Christi takes the principle of artistic expression in vain.TechnologyJesus H. Christ!4062Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/4062falsefalsefalseJesus H. Christ!Jesus H. Christ!The Slate Arts Indexhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/10/the_slate_arts_index.html
<p> According to the <em>Wall Street Journal</em>, high culture is flourishing in America. The evidence? In a front-page story published a couple of weeks ago, the paper noted that Americans are drinking microbrews instead of Bud and that you can now get a cappuccino in Alpena, Ark.</p>
<p>Though it might shock my Seattle-based colleagues, I'm not sure that better coffee is the ultimate measure of a civilization. But if we don't count Starbucks, how do we know that the arts are flourishing in America? There's some support for the notion in a recent survey of public participation in the arts published by the National Endowment for the Arts. According to numbers extrapolated from a poll, 97 million people, or half the adult population of the United States, participate in the arts in some way. A full 34.9 percent of us went to an art museum last year; 15.6 percent attended classical music concerts. From these numbers, the NEA has derived a figure of 88 million classical music concerts attended in 1997 vs. 60 million in 1992, and 225 million art museum visits in 1997, up from 163 million in 1992.</p>
<p>However, the NEA points out that its 1992 numbers aren't comparable to the 1997 ones. Weirdly, the 1992 survey was appended to the National Crime Victimization Survey. (Has anyone in your household been mugged in the past 12 months? Have you been to see <em>Riverdance</em>?) The bleak context may have led to underreporting. The 1997 poll, by contrast, was free-standing, but one can see how it might register false positives. An NEA survey that asks whether you like to go to the theater, opera, ballet, etc., subtly begs for affirmative answers. And in fact, the five year increase indicated by the NEA is much greater than the numbers tabulated by various arts-service organizations--which in some cases report a decline where the NEA sees growth.</p>
<p>But the chief limitation of using the NEA numbers as a proxy for the health of high culture is that it's a demand-side picture--it captures consumption rather than production. It tells us nothing about the quality or quantity of high culture being created in the United States today. And in fact, the new study's upbeat tone cuts directly against the conclusions of a report issued by former NEA Chair Jane Alexander on her way out. The American Canvas study, published in 1997, argues that arts institutions are elitist, complacent, and largely hostile to popular audiences. Last year, according to the NEA, the arts were sick. This year, they're thriving.</p>
<p>Of course, numbers can never resolve the inherently subjective question of cultural health. For a consensus about whether a lot of masterpieces were painted or written in 1998, check back in 100 years. But it may be possible to come up with a more rounded portrait of relative cultural well-being--one that takes into account how well artists are doing as well as how many butts are in auditorium seats.</p>
<p>To that end, I hereby initiate the <strong><em>Slate</em></strong> Arts Index. This is a measure based on statistics culled from various sources that give a clue about the health of different art forms. Here's how it works. The baseline is 100 points, composed of six separate categories. It breaks down as follows: 20 points for literature, 20 for music, 20 for the fine arts, 20 for theater, 10 for film, and 10 for dance. On the basis of the numbers I've gathered, it's hard to say how well any art form--or culture as a whole--is doing. But in a year, we should be able to say whether they're doing better or worse. If the music score rises to 22, that would suggest a 10 percent improvement. A total tally of 92 would mean an 8 percent decline in the health of high culture overall.</p>
<p><strong>Literature (20 points)</strong></p>
<p>10 points--number of weeks that literary books were on the <em>New York Times</em> best-seller list</p>
<p>(1997 = 295)</p>
<p>5 points--number of full-length poetry titles published</p>
<p>(1997 = 942)</p>
<p>5 points--number of Penguin classics sold</p>
<p>(1997 = 3.95 million)</p>
<p>The only book question on the NEA survey is &quot;Have you read any literature in the past year?&quot; Sixty-three percent said yes. The <strong><em>Slate</em></strong> literature index derives from three more compelling factors. The first is the number of weeks new works of literature spent on the <em>Times</em> best-seller list in the past year--295, as it turns out, out of a total of 780. What is literature? Rather than attempting to gauge quality, I have included all books that have literary aspirations or are regarded as literature by most reviewers: <em>Cold Mountain</em>, yes, <em>The Partner</em>, no. Elmore Leonard, yes, Carl Hiaasen, no. As opposed to the commonly cited figure of total book sales, this number is a reasonable stand-in for the question of how many Americans are reading nonpulp new novels. I've reserved the other 10 points for poetry and classic literature. Our proxy for verse is a fairly crude one--the number of books of poetry published. For classics, I'm using sales from one publisher, since Penguin keeps most of the world's great literature in print.</p>
<p><strong>Music (20 points)</strong></p>
<p>4 points--number of opera performances</p>
<p>(1996-97 season = 2,397)</p>
<p>4 points--number of opera premieres</p>
<p>(1997-98 season = 13)</p>
<p>4 points--number of trips to the symphony</p>
<p>(1996-97 = 31.9 million)</p>
<p>4 points--number of new orchestral works commissioned and performed</p>
<p>(1997-98 = 211)</p>
<p>4 points--jazz sales as a share of the recorded music market</p>
<p>(1997 = 2.8 percent)</p>
<p>The logic here is that while the first number gives a sense of the availability of opera as whole, the second number gives a sense of whether new work is being added to the standard repertoire. Both statistics come from Opera America. The third and fourth numbers, provided by the American Symphony Orchestra League, do the same thing with orchestral music. It would be nice to include chamber music, but there are simply no useful statistics. Lastly, while I wasn't able to find any reliable numbers on jazz performance, the Recording Industry Association of America keeps track of jazz CD sales relative to other kinds of music.</p>
<p><strong>Fine Arts (20 points)</strong></p>
<p>10 points--attendance at 149 art museums</p>
<p>(1997 = 42.7 million)</p>
<p>10 points--number of people employed as painters, sculptors, craft-artists, and artist printmakers</p>
<p>(1997 = 251,000)</p>
<p>Art museum attendance is a reasonable proxy for how many people are experiencing art. The American Association of Art Museum Directors reports a much smaller increase in visits than the NEA. Based on the constant number of museums that responded between 1993 and 1996, attendance rose from 37.1 million to 41.3 million (for a slightly smaller sample group than the one used in 1997). As more people pay attention to art, it's becoming easier to get by as an artist. The other useful figure is the number of people working as artists. According to the Department of Commerce, 251,000 people made their livings as painters, sculptors, and craft-workers last year, up from 222,000 in 1993.</p>
<p><strong>Theater (20 points)</strong></p>
<p>10 points--attendance at 81 nonprofit theaters</p>
<p>(1997 = 11.98 million)</p>
<p>10 points--number of nonprofit theaters in the United States</p>
<p>(1997 = 800)</p>
<p>The Theater Communications Group, a New York-based organization, keeps figures for nonprofit theaters such as the American Repertory Theater in Cambridge, Mass., the Guthrie in Minneapolis, and the Steppenwolf in Chicago. For 197 theaters surveyed in a forthcoming TCG study, attendance was 17.25 million. However, in the interest of having an apples-to-apples comparison in the future, I'm using the smaller sample of 81 theaters tracked over time. In these, aggregate attendance is up slightly over the past three years--from 11.79 million in 1995 to 11.98 million in 1997. This does not include Broadway musicals, but then, we're looking at high culture. Our other measure is the total number of nonprofit theaters--800, also according to TCG.</p>
<p><strong>Film (10 points)</strong></p>
<p>5 points--box office receipts for independent films as a share of total</p>
<p>(1997 = 3.8 percent)</p>
<p>5 points--foreign film receipts as a share of total</p>
<p>(1997 = 1.1 percent)</p>
<p>According to Exhibitor Relations, which provides numbers to <em>Variety</em>, box office receipts from independent films were $239 million in 1997, out of a total of $6.3 billion for all films. Foreign film receipts were $68.8 million. The first number is likely to be higher for 1998--the year-to-date figure is $210 million, while the second looks to be much lower--there being no <em>Full Monty</em> import hit this year. I'm using percentages rather than dollar amounts so that I don't have to adjust for inflation in future. These numbers reflect consensus trends--foreign films are barely alive, while independent ones are flourishing.</p>
<p><strong>Dance (10 points)</strong></p>
<p>5 points--average attendance at 25 largest ballet companies</p>
<p>(1997 = 1,997)</p>
<p>5 points--contract hours per week for dancers at ballet and modern companies</p>
<p>(1997 = 36)</p>
<p>Dance indicators have been falling since 1991, when John Munger began keeping systematic track for Dance/USA. This contradicts the NEA report, a discrepancy possibly explained by a rise in attendance at school performances. There are two useful measures of dance strength. The first is the average attendance per performance at the 25 largest ballet companies, which has declined from 2,400 in 1992 to 1,997 last year. The other is the average number of contract weeks for dancers at major companies--which includes modern as well as ballet companies. That figure was 36 in 1997--up from a low of 34 in 1994. In other words, the dance audience has been declining, while professional dancers are finding slightly more work. This suggests philanthropy at work.</p>
<p>I couldn't come up with a plausible indicator for architecture. Nor have I devised one for criticism, which, perhaps self-servingly, I consider to be an important component of cultural health. Lastly, the <strong><em>Slate</em></strong> Arts Index doesn't try to measure--as the NEA survey does--how many Americans are actively participating in the arts as amateur singers, writers, and painters. What the <strong><em>Slate</em></strong> index does do is establish a baseline. Next fall, we should be able to come back and say something meaningful about what kind of year the arts have had. For what it's worth, I'm predicting we'll hit 104.</p>Sun, 04 Oct 1998 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/10/the_slate_arts_index.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-10-04T07:30:00ZIs high culture riding high?TechnologyThe Slate Arts Index3612Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/3612falsefalsefalseThe Slate Arts IndexThe Slate Arts IndexPaying for Operahttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/09/paying_for_opera.html
<p> If there is any art form that cannot pay its own way, it is opera. Since the early 18<sup>th</sup> century, when George Friedrich Handel struggled to keep a company going in London, opera has been sustainable only with the help of subsidies--whether from aristocrats, governments, or corporate benefactors. Even with tickets priced up to $125 and higher at the best houses in the United States, box office revenues make up only half the cost of the show. In cities such as Vienna, Paris, and Berlin, tickets can cost twice as much and contribute an even smaller share of operating budgets. I'll get to the question of why opera costs so much in a minute. But for the moment, assume that the problem is incorrigible. If you want to live in a society in which opera continues to exist, you have to decide who should pay for it.</p>
<p></p>
<p>In European countries, the instinctive reply is &quot;the government.&quot; But even in Italy, Germany, and Britain, countries with long histories of public subsidy for culture, government support has recently drawn public fire. While opera is the most needy of the fine arts, it is also the most elitist. In the United States, according to a just-published survey of participation in the arts, fewer than 4 percent of the public claims to have attended an opera in the last year (and people probably exaggerate about this, just as they do when asked how often they have sex). Around the world, opera is synonymous with snobbery. Its reputation in England was not helped a couple of years ago when a Tory minister described the homeless in London as &quot;the sort of people you step on when you come out of the opera.&quot; Since the audience is rich snobs, people say, let rich snobs pay for it.</p>
<p> T hat's essentially the system we have here. Wealthy individuals and corporations make up the gap between box office revenues and operating expenses--amounting to $223 million in 1996 according to Opera America, the Washington-based trade association. But the idea that Americans do not publicly subsidize opera (or the other arts) is, in fact, erroneous. We do support them, quite generously, not through the National Endowment for the Arts but with a law that says contributions to charitable organizations are tax-deductible. Studies say that a dollar contributed to opera costs the government between 40 and 45 cents in foregone revenue. In other words, opera benefits from the public purse to the tune of about $100 million a year--more than the entire proposed 1999 budget of the NEA. (Why don't conservatives who want to eliminate the NEA ever make the point that there is a multibillion dollar arts subsidy embedded in the tax code? Click for the answer.) The $62 million privately donated to the Metropolitan Opera in New York last year cost the government something like $25 million. This is less than the direct subsidy of 99 billion lire ($60 million) the Italian government gives La Scala in Milan or the 87 million deutsche mark ($52 million) that Germany gives the Berlin Staatsoper, but is slightly more than the Royal Opera in London gets.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Opera enthusiasts in this country constantly lament the lack of direct government support for the arts. Europeans, on the other hand, faced with a new climate of budgetary austerity (countries are having to trim their deficits to join the European Monetary System) wonder how their cultural institutions can attract the private money that seems to flow so freely in the United States. With opera fans on each side of the ocean admiring the other's support system, we must ask: Which method of subsidizing opera is preferable?</p>
<p></p>
<p>But first, back to the cost question. Why does opera endemically require subsidies? The short answer is that while there's only one audience, there are multiple performances all taking place at the same time. An opera is a symphony concert, a choral recital, a play, a ballet, a mural, and a fashion show all at once. The number of people who work to put on one of these spectacles--building the set, brushing down the wigs, turning the crank that lowers Don Giovanni down into hell--is incredible. It can take 700 people, all of whom eat two or three times what normal people eat. Then there are the supernumeraries--the spear carriers, peasants, etc. What would opera do without supernumeraries? What would all those supernumeraries do without opera?</p>
<p> People who work in the best American opera houses tend to be well paid, but not ridiculously so. In her wonderfully gossipy new book about Cecilia Bartoli, <em>Cinderella &amp; Company</em>, Manuela Hoelterhoff digs out some hard-to-come-by figures. Top stars at the Met get $14,000 a performance, for between nine and 12 performances. If you factor in three weeks of unpaid rehearsal, Placido Domingo gets less for singing at the Met than Cokie Roberts gets for speaking to the National Association of Manufacturers. At $500,000 a year, Met General Manager Joseph Volpe is well paid, but not absurdly so, for someone who runs a $150 million-a-year business and has to deal with malingering divas instead of deferential corporate vice presidents.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Those hoping to reduce costs run smack up against Baumol's Law, named for the economist William Baumol, who first elaborated it in a 1966 book titled <em>Performing Arts: The Economic Dilemma</em>. Baumol's Law says that in certain sectors, productivity cannot increase. It takes the same number of musicians the same amount of time to perform <em>The Barber of Seville</em> today as it did in 1816. (In fact, thanks to union contracts, it actually takes <em>more</em> musicians--you pay an orchestra big enough for Wagner even when you program Rossini.) In order for the wages of the skilled professionals who perform an opera to keep pace with those in other sectors of the economy, where productivity does improve, the cost must inflate. In short, there's no alternative to subsidy.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Given this state of affairs, whose system of subsidy is better? The European model has the advantage of being forthright: The government declares that it wants more Puccini than the market provides on its own, and it writes a check to pay for it. Though this means that there is political oversight of artistic decisions in theory, this structure yields considerable creative freedom in practice. But because a third party is paying most of the bill, there's less pressure to please the audience. This can encourage complacency, artistic mediocrity, welfare dependency, and the rest--which may be why fans say the best American operas companies are now of higher quality and consistency than the best continental ones. Marc Scorca, the president of Opera America, says that the more he learns about the European system, the less envious of it he is. American opera companies can't sustain the mostly empty houses Scorca says he witnessed on a recent trip to Germany. And the kind of catastrophic financial mismanagement that has resulted in the British Royal Opera closing down for the coming season is less likely when managers have to raise the money themselves.</p>
<p></p>
<p>In the United States, pleasing the audience is doubly important--not just because the box office take contributes a higher percentage of overall revenues but also because the subscribers are contributors, too. This incentive system keeps opera companies lean and hungry--and American opera houses filled near capacity. The need to win private support may encourage a higher degree of artistic conservatism--too many performances of crowd pleasers like <em>Tosca</em> instead of works by 20<sup>th</sup> century composers--and an overreliance on big-name superstars. But it has the advantage of seeming fairer to culturephobes. The same government benefit--a tax deduction for all charitable contributions--flows to supporters of the Houston Opera and supporters of the Christian Coalition, in proportion to their generosity and enthusiasm. Society gets more music than the free market would provide, and more churches.</p>
<p></p>
<p>On balance, I think our system of paying for opera is more rational. But then, as reading Hoelterhoff's book will remind you, the words &quot;opera&quot; and &quot;rational&quot; seldom belong in the same sentence.</p>
<p><strong> If you missed the link on why conservatives who want to eliminate the NEA don't make the point that there is a multibillion dollar arts subsidy embedded in the tax code, click.</strong></p>Sun, 27 Sep 1998 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/09/paying_for_opera.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-09-27T07:30:00ZWhy it costs so much, and what to do about it.TechnologyPaying for Opera3620Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/3620falsefalsefalsePaying for OperaPaying for OperaI Have Seen the Millennium, and It Works.http://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/09/i_have_seen_the_millennium_and_it_works.html
<p> Since plans for Britain's Millennium Dome began to take shape last year, condemnation has poured in from all sides. Left-wing critics are appalled at the waste of $1.3 billion that could have gone toward housing and the National Health Service. Conservatives object to the Blair government's attempt to present England as a modern, multicultural nation instead of a tradition-bound, Christian one. With the help of constant attacks from all sides, the dome's approval rating fell to 8 percent in one recent poll--lower than Monica's, Ken's, or even Linda's. The only people in London who don't heap scorn on it are those who complain they're too tired of the topic to talk about it.</p>
<p></p>
<p>On the chance that something so despised might deserve defending, I put on a hard hat and rubber boots and went to look at the construction site in Greenwich, just outside London, this week. (Because the world's clocks are fixed to Greenwich Mean Time, this is the spot where the millennium can be argued to officially debut.) As I half suspected, the dome is better than advertised. As a building, it is stunning. As the site of the main international event of the Year 2000, it may or may not succeed. But the dome has at least a chance to follow in the path of its illustrious English ancestors, the Crystal Palace exhibition of 1851 and the Festival of Britain of 1951. Those events, too, were derided in advance as wasteful and stupid. But they are remembered now as monumental expressions of British identity and historical moment.</p>
<p></p>
<p>As a feat of architecture, engineering, and urban renewal, the dome is already close to being a success. John Major's Tory government first conceived of the project, and Labor was officially opposed before it took power, so until 1997, no one knew what would happen. Once Tony Blair decided to make the dome a kind of signature for &quot;New Labor,&quot; there were just three years to plan and build one of the largest structures on earth--on a contaminated gasworks site. Before construction could begin, the ground below literally had to be washed to remove cyanide and arsenic. Engineers then went about raising a room of nearly a million square feet. This is a structure so huge that, according to Anthony Day, the retired architect who gave me a tour, weather systems would form inside if not for the high-tech fiberglass and Teflon double skin. Day suggests that winter visitors will want to bring overcoats and brandy flasks, because the building is simply too big to heat (though I suspect the Brits like it that way).</p>
<p></p>
<p>Even if the exhibition fails to draw the hoped-for 15 million visitors, it will be responsible for turning hundreds of acres of industrial wasteland into a lovely spot on the Thames linked to the rest of the metropolis by the Underground. This follows the urban planning ideas of Britain's most famous architect, Richard Rogers, who is responsible for the dome. Rogers believes that London, like many of the world's great cities, is being undone by traffic and unplanned sprawl. He argues in a recent book, <em>Cities for a Small Planet</em>, that the way to rescue London is to reduce car traffic; develop new neighborhoods for mixed use; and convert the city's greatest natural asset, the Thames riverbank, into public space. If successful, the dome will make the case for pursuing Rogers' grander vision--turning the Thames Embankment, now a highway along the river, into a grand park.</p>
<p> L ike Rogers' best-known building, the Pompidou Center in Paris, the dome is drawn in brilliant color, which jumps out against the London drab like a brightly frosted cake. The Italian-born architect's other hallmark, of which the Lloyd's of London headquarters is the leading example, is for a building to show how it works, exposing its elevators, ventilation pipes, and structural girders. You can see, at a glance from the outside, how the dome stands up. Its huge tent is sustained by brilliant yellow tent poles, nearly 300 feet high and stitched together with steel cables. From the overlooking hill of the Greenwich Royal Observatory, the structure looks like a whimsical sea monster that crawled out of the Thames. The chief fault of Rogers' other buildings is that they don't age well--many of the better known ones have an early '80s, &quot;new wave&quot; look. But the dome has the advantage of being temporary. The millennium exhibition will last a year, and though the structure may be converted to another use, it's only supposed to last 25 years.</p>
<p></p>
<p>The tent is beautiful empty--David Hockney, the painter, was recently quoted proposing that it be left that way. And members of the planning committee may privately share that wish. Almost every decision about how to fill the space has aroused controversy. The most ridiculed proposal is &quot;Body,&quot; a gargantuan naked human people can walk through, observing the operation of the internal organs as in a Rogers building. Leaving Dome Person unsexed on the exterior seems overly prudish. But the alternative of Brobdingnagian genitalia and python-size pubic hairs could be hard to stomach, even after the Starr report.</p>
<p></p>
<p>The greatest challenge may be the least futuristic part of the exhibition--the &quot;National Identity&quot; section, for which the committee has yet to announce any kind of plan. In deciding what to put here, Britain will be describing itself to the world. In previous great exhibitions, this was a less complicated issue. At the dawn of the Industrial Revolution in 1851, Britain was an imperial power with a unitary culture. A great exhibition was a chance to dazzle with what it could make and build, beginning with the glass and iron Crystal Palace itself, a marvel of early Victorian engineering. The 1951 Festival of Britain (organized by the grandfather of the Labor minister now in charge of the Millennium Dome) still represented a culturally homogenous, industrial country. It displayed thousands of British-made things, heralding the emergence from wartime rationing into postwar consumerism. But today, Britain is increasingly an immigrant nation with an emerging postindustrial economy. It depends far more on the export of services and its culture than it does on its goods. The Blair government has invested its prestige in the dome because it sees it as an opportunity to convey this new social and economic reality.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Peter Mandelson, the Cabinet member in charge of the millennium project, was lampooned for traveling to Disney World in search of ideas. But an excess of popular appeal is less likely than an overinfusion of centrist political ideology. Blair loves to say that he sees Britain as a dynamic, forward-looking, and multicultural society. Laborites talk unblushingly about &quot;re-branding&quot; the country. To New Labor, the dome is a great marketing opportunity. Which makes it, in a way, an authentic expression of the spirit of the age.</p>Wed, 23 Sep 1998 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/09/i_have_seen_the_millennium_and_it_works.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-09-23T07:30:00ZA huge dome near London symbolizes ... nearly everything.TechnologyI Have Seen the Millennium, and It Works.3619Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/3619falsefalsefalseI Have Seen the Millennium, and It Works.I Have Seen the Millennium, and It Works.Style Labhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/09/style_lab.html
<p> One of my favorite things about New York City is the way businesses huddle together. The diamond dealers are all on 47<sup>th</sup> Street, between Fifth and Sixth avenues. Brazilian restaurants are on 45<sup>th</sup> and 46<sup>th</sup>. If you want a guitar, new or used, you need to go to 48<sup>th</sup> Street. Furs are in the high 20s off Seventh Avenue; sewing machines are on West 25<sup>th</sup>. Some of these districts are ancient, but new commercial clusters are emerging all the time. At the moment, one of the most pleasing is a little neighborhood a few blocks east of the once superfashionable neighborhood of SoHo. In a dozen shops on Elizabeth, Mott, and Prince streets, the common thread is style--and an approach to it that I find very appealing.</p>
<p></p>
<p>A few years ago, this neighborhood was a no man's land. Bordered on the east by New York's fabled skid row, the Bowery, and on the south by Little Italy, it still has something of the flavor of a faded ethnic neighborhood, with Italian butchers and windowless social clubs and old people sitting out on card chairs on the sidewalk. But lately the tone has been set by a group of small clothing stores that share an amorphous design sensibility. What's ordinarily so unappealing about &quot;fashion&quot; is its combination of snobbery, high cost, and humorlessness. What's wonderful about these places is that they are just the opposite: unsnooty, relatively inexpensive, and fun. Many are presided over by recent graduates of the Fashion Institute of Technology and the Parsons and Rhode Island schools of design who are going into business for the first time. They all have a work-in-progress, school-project attitude. Most don't open until 1 o'clock, if then, and they close whenever people stop coming in. On nice afternoons, friends drop in on their bicycles to say hello and examine the goods. In several of the stores, the owners apologized for not having their fall collections finished--after Labor Day. There's an 11-p.m.-at-Kinko's feeling to the enterprise.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Nevertheless, NoLIta, as the area is disagreeably called (the abbreviation stands for North of Little Italy), has become a style incubator for the rest of the city, which means for the country, which means for the world. The neighborhood is a favorite scouting territory for designers and buyers for larger-scale style setters such as Calvin Klein, as well as for national chains such as J. Crew, Urban Outfitters, and the Gap, who come to troll for inspiration (to put it charitably). These chains, many of which have elegant flagship stores in nearby SoHo, do with clothes what Target and IKEA do with furniture and household objects--they disseminate an affordable version of urban chic to the middle class. In the new ecology of downtown New York, stylistic innovation of various kinds is most likely to take place to the east of Lafayette Street, in NoLIta or the East Village or on the Lower East Side. To the west of Lafayette, in SoHo, those styles are marked up and sold to the unknowing. In some cases, the mass-made interpretations are direct rip-offs from small independent designers, who don't seem to mind. For the most part, they take plagiarism as flattery. At this stage in their careers, the validation they get from seeing their stylistic ideas catch on is more important than credit or royalties.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Part of what's appealing about these places is that the idea of style they embody is holistic. All the details of the store convey an aesthetic: the lettering on the window, the paper stock used for business cards, the lighting, the floor, the ceiling, the display racks. The stores are designed by people who pay attention to how everything looks. But they manage to do so, in the main, without seeming precious or prissy about it.</p>
<p> Click to start the tour.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Once on the tour, click a numbered square to advance to that tour stop.</p>
<p> Click for text-mostly version.</p>Wed, 16 Sep 1998 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/09/style_lab.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-09-16T07:30:00ZA tour through downtown Manhattan's design incubator.TechnologyStyle Lab3618Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/3618falsefalsefalseStyle LabStyle LabExhibiting Contempthttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/09/exhibiting_contempt.html
<p> Art museums are under pressure these days. There's the constant hunger for money, exacerbated by the decline in government funding. There is brutal competition for donors and works of art. Since the onset of the culture wars, museums also have faced the hazard of political controversy and the chilling effect it can have on potential sponsors. Perhaps most relentless is box office pressure--the demand to boost attendance.</p>
<p></p>
<p>A recent <em>New York Times</em> article argued that these burdens have made the job of museum director less desirable than it might seem. Perhaps so. But that doesn't excuse the way some directors have responded to these pressures: with a style of populism that is very different from a genuine democratic sensibility.</p>
<p> M useum populism is not quite the same as the blockbuster syndrome. Though devised and marketed on a large scale, shows like the upcoming Van Gogh exhibition at the National Gallery in Washington or the Monet retrospective at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston fall within the traditional boundaries of what these institutions display. They may not contain much that is conceptually fresh, but they do provide mass access to artistic masterpieces. You can't really argue with that. The populist trend, by contrast, draws museums away from art their curators sincerely believe is great--or sometimes away from art entirely. The current, defining example is the &quot;The Art of the Motorcycle,&quot; now on view at the Solomon Guggenheim Museum in New York City. Other examples include the exhibition of landscapes by the traditionalist painter Andrew Wyeth that just closed at the Whitney Museum of American Art and the Louis Comfort Tiffany show that just opened at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.</p>
<p> Museum populism began with an unlikely figure: a patrician medievalist by the name of Thomas Hoving, who was the director of the Met from 1967 to 1977. Hoving is the guy who came up with the idea of flying huge banners over the entrance to the museum. He also essentially invented the blockbuster show. His tenure began with a splashy exhibition on royal patronage and built to the crescendo of &quot;King Tut,&quot; which visitors waited in long lines to see in 1977. In an entertaining book published a few years ago, <em>Making the Mummies Dance: Inside the Metropolitan Museum of Art</em>, Hoving unabashedly recounts his own Machiavellian management and P.T. Barnum-style hype. But despite his excesses, Hoving was still in some sense a conventional-minded curator. It never occurred to him that you could herd even more people into an art museum if you didn't force them to look at art at all. Thus it was left to the San Diego Museum of Art to mount, a few years back, a Dr. Seuss retrospective, and to the Whitney to mount a fashion show titled &quot;The Warhol Look&quot; last year.</p>
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<p>Conservative critics such as Jed Perl and Hilton Kramer, who predictably have decried the motorcycle exhibit, might reflect upon the fact that the populist approach it represents grew out of the Mapplethorpe-National Endowment for the Arts controversy of the late 1980s--which they started.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Charged with being out of touch both with popular morality and with popular taste and punished with a loss of funds, museum directors have been trying hard to demonstrate that they are <em>not</em> elitist, difficult, and obscure. The best way to prove you're not a snob is by not letting your museum seem empty. And the master of preventing emptiness, while at the same time cultivating it, is Thomas R. Krens, the director the Guggenheim.</p>
<p> The hallmarks of Krens' 10 year tenure have been aggressive global expansion--there are now three Guggenheims in Europe in addition to the two in New York--and the box office smash. In the last few years, the museum's main branch, the iconic Frank Lloyd Wright corkscrew, has mounted huge retrospectives of less difficult contemporary artists, such as Roy Lichtenstein and Robert Rauschenberg. Where modern art ceases to be popular, Krens ceases to display modern art, at least in a main-event manner. Last summer, Krens cooperated with the Chinese government in mounting an exhibition titled &quot;China: 5000 Years&quot; that fell well outside the museum's charter. But with aggressive promotion, including advertising in Chinese language newspapers, the museum set new records for itself, drawing an average of nearly 3,000 visitors a day. The commercial success of &quot;The Art of the Motorcycle&quot; has dwarfed that. Nearly 4,000 people a day are paying an obscene $12 per head to see the shimmering machines, making it by far the best-attended show in the Guggenheim's history.</p>
<p></p>
<p>An exhibition on motorcycle design at the Guggenheim would be defensible if it made a better argument for either the cultural significance or the aesthetic importance of the machines. Industrial design is a stepchild of fine art, and the cross-fertilization of high and pop is an important part of the story of artistic modernism. But the exhibition doesn't make the case. The basic message of the show is: Motorcycles are really cool; here are a bunch of really cool motorcycles. It includes too many machines--114 in all. Some of these are undeniably eye-catching, but by the end, the nonaficionado is bored silly. Part of the problem is that, as you might expect from an exhibition direct-marketed to motorcycle clubs, the approach is design-technical rather than design-aesthetic or design-cultural. The information plates that accompany the exhibition and the catalog text both seem pitched at pre-established fanatics. Here's a snatch from the catalog entry for the 1914 Cyclone, one of a few truly stunning bikes in the show:</p>
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<p>The hallmark feature of the 61-ci V-twin Cyclone engine is its shaft-and-bevel-gear-driven overhead-cam and valve arrangement. The motorcycle also contains a number of other important features that presage modern high-performance engine technology: a near-hemispherical combustion chamber, the extensive use of cage-roller and self-aligning ball bearings, and a precise, recessed fit of the crankcase, cylinders and heads all contribute to the engine's exceptional performance. Even with its modest compression ration of 5.5 to 1, it is estimated that the Cyclone produces 45 hp at 5000 rpm.</p>
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<p>As curator of the exhibition, Krens lays on this technical specification as a defense against the charge of unseriousness. But in doing so, he more or less eviscerates his own claim that these machines belong in a modern art museum, as opposed to one focused on design, transportation, or history.</p>
<p> P erhaps ironically, museum populism comes with a tendency toward corporate exploitation. BMW is the sole sponsor of an exhibition that includes BMW motorcycles, including a current model. In its defense, the Guggenheim points out that there are only six BMW bikes, fewer than the number of Hondas or Harleys. But the point is not that the sponsor influences the content of the show. It is that the sponsor influences the fact of the show. That a company like BMW can get brownie points for art patronage by promoting its own product is part of the reason that this exhibition took place, instead of the one examining 20<sup>th</sup> century art at the end of the millennium, which it replaced. The current Tiffany show at the Met is sponsored by Tiffany. Everywhere, the border between the museum and its gift shop is growing more porous. At the Guggenheim SoHo, you can't enter the galleries except through the gift shop.</p>
<p></p>
<p>The Guggenheim has been busy rationalizing its decision to mount the motorcycle exhibition. Krens, a motorcycle enthusiast and the owner of two BMWs, contributes an utterly unpersuasive introduction to the catalog, in which he breezily declares that the distinction between the unique work of art and the mechanically produced object is now &quot;irrelevant.&quot; In other words, it's open season for guys like him. Others are embracing this philosophy of complete categorical breakdown. The Chicago Museum of Contemporary Art just hired its new head away from Disney. In interviews, Robert Fitzpatrick, who styles himself director and CEO, has said he wants to make the museum friendlier to visitors. According to my sources, he recently stunned his curators by proposing to fill the galleries with potted plants (they draw bugs--no good for paintings).</p>
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<p>Resisting empty populism doesn't have to mean a haughty elitism. An aesthetic democrat says that more people could profit from the experience of art if those who ran museums thought more creatively about how to converse with their audience. A populist says that if you drop what is difficult in art, you can get more people to pay attention. The democrat at the helm of a museum, a symphony orchestra, or a publishing house tries to expand his audience while challenging it. The populist, by contrast, panders to his audience, figuring out what it likes and then delivering it in heaps. Where the democrat exhibits respect for the public, the populist exhibits contempt.</p>Sun, 06 Sep 1998 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/09/exhibiting_contempt.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-09-06T07:30:00ZPopulism vs. democracy at the art museum.TechnologyExhibiting Contempt3617Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/3617falsefalsefalseExhibiting ContemptExhibiting ContemptUncritical Criticshttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/08/uncritical_critics.html
<p> Warner Bros. took the unprecedented step last week of refusing to let reviewers see <em>The Avengers</em> before it was released. The widespread assumption was that the studio knew the movie was a dog but was hoping to salvage a good opening weekend before people found out. But by locking the critics out, knowing this would be widely publicized, Warner Bros. was essentially announcing to the world that <em>The Avengers</em> was a dog. It's as futile as a restaurant publicly refusing to allow a health department inspection.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Maybe it was a big bluff. Maybe Warner Bros. was trying to propitiate the film critics--a largely disgruntled and demoralized bunch. By publicly sacrificing <em>The Avengers</em>, a sure flop in any case, studio executives flattered the critics by pretending to be deeply afraid of them. They also bolstered an important delusion: that a movie as awful as <em>The Avengers</em> is the exception and not the rule. Singling out <em>The Avengers</em> as terrible implies that the other current Warner Bros. releases--<em>Lethal Weapon 4</em>, <em>The Negotiator</em>, and <em>A Perfect Murder--</em>are not equally worthless. Reviewers too have a stake in keeping up the pretense that most films are worth reviewing. Were they to acknowledge that 95 percent of what comes out of Hollywood is eyewash, there wouldn't be much left for most of them to do.</p>
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<p>You might argue that movies aren't so bad nowadays. But that would only prove that you haven't spent much time at the multiplex this summer. Here are the big summer releases from the other major studios: <em>The X-Files</em>; <em>Small Soldiers</em>; <em>Armageddon</em>; <em>Six Days, Seven Nights</em>; <em>Something About Mary</em>; <em>Ever After</em>; <em>The Mask of Zorro</em>; <em>Dr. Dolittle</em>; <em>Mulan</em>; <em>Jane Austen's Mafia</em>; <em>BASEketball</em>; <em>Disturbing Behavior</em>; <em>Madeline</em>; <em>Out of Sight</em>; <em>Halloween: H20</em>; <em>Saving Private Ryan</em>; <em>The Parent Trap</em>; and <em>Snake Eyes</em>. Subtract <em>Saving Private Ryan</em>, which was a virtuoso piece of moviemaking despite its hack storytelling, and subtract one or two others that qualify as harmless fun. What you have left is a run of formula films and glorified video games pitched to the adolescent audience. It's not necessary to see these films to know how dismal they are, because they are reiterations of other bad films. To be sure, there were plenty of crummy genre films in the golden age of cinema. And good ones still break through from time to time. But it would be seriously perverse to maintain that mainstream film is a robust popular art form.</p>
<p></p>
<p>The sorry condition of popular cinema leaves film critics in a quandary. David Denby argued in a <em>New Yorker</em> article earlier this year that they face a choice of being either hucksters or cranks. Either they declare that pablum is delicious, or they sink into chronic dyspepsia. I think Denby is right in saying that these are the twin poles, but most critics actually fall somewhere on the continuum between them. Relatively few reviewers are either blurb-whores or kvetching sourpusses. Most are simply battle-fatigued and judgment-impaired, trapped in what has become a journalistic dead end, an untenable profession. (My colleague, <strong><em>Slate</em></strong>'s own David Edelstein, is a thinker and writer whose <em>oeuvre</em> rises to a level beyond all pigeonholing, and he is therefore omitted from the following analysis.)</p>
<p> L et's consider the fringes first. In addition to Denby at <em>New York</em> magazine, the legion of honorable cranks includes Anthony Lane of <em>The New Yorker</em> and Stanley Kauffmann of the <em>New Republic</em>. These are writers of widely divergent disposition. Denby is high-minded and dour, Lane biting, Kauffmann gentle and wise. But all take basically the same approach to their job. As far as possible, they ignore brain-rot movies and focus on independent and foreign films. At the uncompromising extreme are J. Hoberman of the <em>Village Voice</em> and Jonathan Rosenbaum of the <em>Chicago Reader</em>, who ignore the Hollywood wasteland almost entirely. They concentrate on obscure films, which may be wonderful but which hardly anyone has an opportunity to see.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Reviewing only <em>A Taste of Cherry</em> and <em>Pi</em> is not a viable alternative for most critics. Even relatively successful independent films have no distribution beyond big cities, and if you want to see foreign films nowadays, you have to go to festivals. Most newspaper arts editors, not to mention TV and radio producers, understandably want their critics to write about movies advertised in their pages, movies that also happen to be the only ones average people are likely to see. The worst hucksters are the reviewers who spend their weekends on previewing junkets in New York and Los Angeles. They fly first class, stay at the Four Seasons, and get $100 a day for incidentals. In return, they provide the blurbs quoted in advance newspaper ads (&quot;An ending that will knock your socks off&quot;--<em>Tucson Gazette</em>). The junketeers deliver these squibs, which seldom appear in actual reviews, to the studio publicists. In some cases, publicists write the blurbs themselves and find &quot;critics&quot; to accept attribution.</p>
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<p>Most movie reviewers occupy a middle ground between Don Quixote and the Yellow Kid. Typically, they fell in love with movies when movies were better and are trying not to notice that their love object has shriveled into hagdom. They're not overtly corrupt, but their standards are in a condition of collapse. They appraise poor films as good and fair films as great. When something flawed but interesting such as <em>Bulworth</em> or <em>The Truman Show</em> breaks through, they overpraise it in an cringe-making way. Into this category go Gene Siskel of the <em>Chicago Tribune</em>, who recently gave a rave to <em>Armageddon</em>; his <em>Sneak Previews</em> buddy Roger Ebert (who calls <em>The Negotiator</em> &quot;a thriller that really hums along&quot;); David Ansen of <em>Newsweek</em>; and Richard Schickel of <em>Time</em>. Even Janet Maslin of the <em>New York Times</em>, intelligent though she is, seems headed down this slope when she enthuses about <em>Lethal Weapon 4</em> or prostrates herself before the latest Spielberg.</p>
<p></p>
<p>I have two theories about why movie critics are so uncritical--one aesthetic, the other economic. The aesthetic explanation is that critics see so many bad movies that their taste deteriorates. If you are forced to spend your afternoon sitting through <em>Godzilla</em>, <em>Armageddon</em> comes as a relief. The economic explanation is that movie reviewers are really part of the movie industry. They exist to encourage people to see movies in general, even if they must discourage them from seeing some in particular. In all but a few places, a reviewer who consistently pans blockbusters is likely to run into trouble with his superiors. Movie ads are a major source of revenue for papers and magazines and TV stations, and editors and publishers don't want some &quot;elitist&quot; reviewer threatening that money. Most critics can tell you stories about the pressure on them to be upbeat and populist.</p>
<p></p>
<p>A couple of years ago, Susan Sontag argued in an article in the <em>New York Times Magazine</em> that the decline of film quality is a demand-driven problem. What's killing cinema as an art form is the demise of the audience with a taste for serious and challenging films. If she's right, there may not be much reviewers can do. But it would be nice to see them rage a little against the degradation of the medium they're supposed to love. One way to protest would be to follow the &quot;crank&quot; critics in acknowledging that movies such as <em>Deep Impact</em> and <em>Small Soldiers</em> don't require evaluation. A newspaper that wants to serve its readers well can provide a paragraph-long capsule and a <em>Zagat</em>-style reader rating instead. Critics should address the larger question of why Hollywood thinks so little of today's film audience. And if Warner Bros. doesn't want <em>The Avengers</em> reviewed, reviewers should be only too happy to oblige.</p>Fri, 21 Aug 1998 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/08/uncritical_critics.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-08-21T07:30:00ZMost movies are terrible, but you wouldn't know it from the reviews. Why?TechnologyUncritical Critics3616Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/3616falsefalsefalseUncritical CriticsUncritical CriticsOrwell, Listinghttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/08/orwell_listing.html
<p> George Orwell, of all people, now stands accused of being an informant for the British secret service. In recent weeks, the British press has been filled with articles asking whether the inventor of Big Brother was a hypocrite for naming names.</p>
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<p>Revelations about Orwell's &quot;secret list&quot; have been trickling out for some years. In 1991, Michael Shelden published an excellent biography that revealed Orwell kept a notebook listing the names of people he took to be Communists or Communist sympathizers. In 1996, the British Foreign Office disclosed that Orwell had shared some of the names in his notebook with a Cold War-era outfit called the Information Research Department. With the British publication last month of Orwell's complete works, in 20 volumes, we have a more complete story of what he did, despite the fact that the Foreign Office has yet to release the actual list of names Orwell submitted.</p>
<p> S urprisingly, little of the story has been reported in the United States. The only prominent mention was a confused quasi-defense that appeared on the <em>New York Times</em> op-ed page a few weeks ago. The author, Cold War historian Timothy Naftali, asserts that Orwell's list showed and criticizes him for showing poor sense. The apparent point of the piece was not to challenge his reputation but rather to argue that those who named names before the House Un-American Activities Committee weren't so bad, since they did only what Orwell had done in a time of difficult choices. Orwell defenders in Britain have emphasized that in May 1949, when he shared his list, he was on his deathbed. Some have suggested he was coaxed into cooperating by a woman he was in love with.</p>
<p></p>
<p>None of these excuses is necessary. What Orwell did was not the pardonable act of a dying man. It was the moral act of an ethical man--right not only in the context of the times but also in retrospect. The behavior he is now being excoriated for was not Orwellian, in the sense of <em>1984</em>'s world of inverted truth--but Orwell-like, meaning that it was in keeping with a career based on political courage and intellectual integrity.</p>
<p> T o understand why Orwell did what he did, it's necessary to reconstruct a bit of history. Orwell's hatred of Soviet communism dates from 1937, the year he volunteered to go fight in the Spanish Civil War. In Barcelona, he was a witness to, and nearly a victim of, the Stalinist purge of independent elements on the left. Members of the Republican militias not controlled by Moscow--such as the POUM, for which Orwell fought--were being jailed and murdered. When Orwell tried to spill the beans about what was happening behind the lines, he was prevented by people who, though not CP members, viewed criticism of the Soviet Union as intolerable. These included Kingsley Martin, the editor of the <em>New Statesman</em>, and Victor Gollancz, who had published Orwell's early books. <em>Homage to Catalonia</em> (1938), which may be Orwell's finest work, was finally published by the tiny firm of Secker &amp; Warburg and sold only 700 copies. Orwell faced the same experience when he finished <em>Animal Farm</em> during World War II. Because of its criticism of the Soviet Union, no publisher but Warburg would touch it.</p>
<p></p>
<p>When World War II ended, Orwell became preoccupied with Stalin's power grab in Eastern Europe and the way those whom he saw as dishonest intellectuals in the West were abetting it. With his friend Richard Rees, he played a game of trying to figure out who was what in the fellow-traveling constellation. In his notebook, Orwell listed 135 names--with remarks about who the people were, who he guessed might be &quot;some kind of agent,&quot; who a fellow traveler or &quot;crypto,&quot; and who merely &quot;stupid,&quot; &quot;dishonest,&quot; or &quot;na&iuml;ve.&quot; He missed the mark a few times--John Steinbeck and Orson Welles didn't fellow-travel very far. But Orwell was often not just correct but also uncanny. Peter Smollett, a journalist who headed the Russian Department of the British Ministry of Information during the war and whom Orwell described as &quot;almost certainly an agent of some kind,&quot; was later revealed to be, in fact, a Soviet agent. Peter Davison, the editor of the <em>Complete Works</em>, believes that Smollett was the person who talked Jonathan Cape, a prominent British publisher, into dropping <em>Animal Farm</em>. Orwell kept his private list up-to-date. When Upton Sinclair, a fellow traveler in the 1930s, turned anti-Stalinist after the war, Orwell crossed him out.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Orwell was not just a political commentator who spoke from the sidelines. He was someone who believed in choosing sides and taking action, even when the alternatives were imperfect. In 1948, he was busy arguing that it was necessary to choose the United States over Russia in the emerging Cold War. He criticized the editorial page of the <em>Tribune</em>, where he wrote a regular column, for failing to take a pro-American position, even though the paper was anti-Communist. It was in the midst of the Berlin Crisis in 1949 that Orwell received a hospital visit from Celia Paget, the sister-in-law of his friend and fellow anti-Stalinist Arthur Koestler. As Shelden recounts in his biography, Koestler had fixed Paget up with Orwell after his wife suddenly died in 1945. Orwell was enough taken with her to propose marriage, rather abruptly. Though Paget refused him, they became good friends.</p>
<p></p>
<p>After going to work for the IRD, a department roughly analogous to the U.S. Information Agency, she asked Orwell for help in countering Communist propaganda around the world. Orwell declined the offer of a commission to write a pamphlet, in part because he was too ill--he was suffering from tuberculosis and would be dead in eight months. But he was happy to recommend others suited to the task, such as Franz Borkenau, an ex-Communist who wrote the best book other than Orwell's about the Spanish Civil War. Orwell also told Paget that there were people the IRD should avoid. He asked his friend Rees to bring the notebook he kept at home to the sanitarium in the Cotswolds where he was dying. From his list of 135 names--not all of which have been revealed, because some of the people are still alive--Orwell chose only 35 people of whom he said he was fairly sure. The <em>New York</em><em>Times</em> published excerpts from the larger list of 135, even including people Orwell had crossed off, leaving the impression that he had submitted them all for blacklisting. The names Orwell submitted are almost certainly those marked with a red asterisk on his longer list and do not include such familiar ones as Stephen Spender or Michael Redgrave.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Orwell asked that his list remain secret not because there was anything shameful about it, but because he feared it was libelous. Where he could say the same thing publicly, he did. Many of those on his list are people Orwell wrote against in the <em>Tribune</em> and in his &quot;London Letter&quot; for <em>Partisan Review</em>. There is no analogy to the behavior of those like Elia Kazan, who named names before House Un-American Activities Committee. Kazan betrayed friends in order to protect himself. People lost their jobs and had their lives ruined as a result. Orwell named enemies, not friends. And they weren't his personal enemies, they were people he believed to be enemies of liberty. Nor were their civil liberties infringed as a result. The only consequence of appearing on Orwell's list is that you weren't likely to be asked for help by the British Foreign Office.</p>
<p><strong> Did Orwell's list demonstrate he was anti-Semitic and anti-homosexual? If you missed the link to the sidebar, click.</strong></p>Sun, 16 Aug 1998 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/08/orwell_listing.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-08-16T07:30:00ZThe author of 1984 was right to name names.TechnologyOrwell, Listing3615Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/3615falsefalsefalseOrwell, ListingOrwell, Listing“100 Best Novels”? The Authors Respondhttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/07/100_best_novels_the_authors_respond.html
<p></p>
<p><em>(posted Thursday, July 30, 1998)</em></p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>From:</strong> wharton@mount.com</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>To:</strong> henjam@msn.classic.com; listserv@deadauthorsguild.org</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>Cc:</strong></p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>Re:</strong> Joyce--or, better, don't</p>
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<p><em>Cher</em><em>Ma&icirc;tre</em>,</p>
<p></p>
<p>Saw <em>Wings of the Dove</em> last evening &amp; was very impressed. So that was what it was all about! Your writing has no bigger fan than EW, but I must admit to finding some of the later novels a bit, shall we say, <em>murky</em>. Large &amp; charming party at the Cineplex Odeon--the young Waldorf Astors, Mr. Balfour, Ld &amp; Lady Elcho, Dcess of Manchester, Lady Essex, &amp;c. &amp;c. All seemed delighted but for poor Teddy, who ran screaming from the theater during the first reel--his nerves, no doubt. Miss Bonham Carter was <em>splendid</em>. She ought to play Lily Barth if <em>The House of Mirth</em> ever makes it out of turnaround. Is it true they're giving the Merchant-Ivory treatment to your <em>Golden Bowl</em>? Can't say I ever made it quite to the end of that one either.</p>
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<p>Have you looked over the Modern Library list yet? As Scribner authors, neither of us is likely to find much favor in a list of books sold by Mr. Cerf. Still, I fear that to the younger generation we must represent the literary equivalent of tufted furniture and gas chandeliers. <em>Ulysses</em>, alas, is No. 1. Have you driven into this fog? It's a turgid welter of pornography (the rudest schoolboy kind) &amp; uninformed &amp; unimportant drivel. The ingredients of soup do not make soup without the cook's intervention. The same goes for Mr. Kerouac.</p>
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<p>Your Devoted Edith</p>
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<p>******</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>From:</strong> henjam@msn.classic.com</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>To:</strong> wharton@mount.com; listserv@deadauthorsguild.org</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>Cc:</strong></p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>Re:</strong> 100 <em>romans</em></p>
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<p>Dearest Edith,</p>
<p></p>
<p>The drab unblinking question that presents itself is that &quot;compilation&quot; to which you refer, whose arrival, though unwelcome, is in no way resistible. Of the part that is mine to pass over in silence is perhaps the course both of humility and of <em>humilit&eacute;</em>. That the number of my own works chosen should be <em>trois</em> is a matter for neither protestation nor ingratitude. Yet that such an ordering hardly induces in the author of the aforementioned <em>trois</em> such satisfaction as might be hoped to accrue to one looking down with Olympian detachment from beyond the vale of longevity is a statement the validity of which cannot be called readily into question. It is unlikely to fail to play upon the suspicions of such a one that the composition of his most highly esteemed should be that most lately converted into a wan cinematic confection of fretsome abbreviation. Neither, however, could a figure such as he neglect the observation that the personage with whom the former is now abstractly in conversation was accorded the merit of only <em>dues livres</em>, and that those <em>due</em> were accorded a position more terrestrial, which is to say well below those of the former on the &quot;list.&quot; Such a &quot;point,&quot; once made, could not resist the tendency to instill feelings of &quot;envy&quot; and <em>ressentiment</em> on the part of an author perhaps better compensated and perhaps more &quot;popular,&quot; but in the view of the critical intelligence--if any such fitful and discredited light may still be conceived as being within our sphere--not really as good as mine. Thus it is an expression of both discretion and a great humble reverence for the feelings of others to leave such a &quot;point&quot; unmade and unwinced at.</p>
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<p>Though it may be additionally unpenworthy, there is another &quot;point&quot; that heavily impels <em>making</em>. It is that of all the volumes, some eminent, some too much esteemed in the trail of &quot;fashion,&quot; there is one included that so transgresses the hesitational boundary of propriety as to induce a feeling of stammering dyspepsia. Attention is called to the uncouth Mr. Roth, whose effluviations are so juvenalianly unspeakable that I cannot bear to utter their &quot;title.&quot; This <em>work</em>, it cannot be refrained from being pointed out, has as its chief topic that exercise that in our own great palmy day was considered least worthy of writerly elucidation. That this basely erotic occupation that was to our own contemporaries so unsupportable should form the <em>core</em> of the work in question might be thought to constitute a disqualification. To such vulgarian depths does this &quot;fascination&quot; descend that there is in one place depicted an act of rank unsalubrious congress between <em>him</em> and a comestible whose ingestion by familial others is ineluctably and tenebrously foreordained. I speak here of the &quot;liver&quot; scene. For a work whose &quot;climax&quot; depends on feelings of the most passionate revulsion to be esteemed ahead of your own labors, so far superior as to be undeserving of inclusion in the same tormented sentence, is, my dearest Edith, an insult insufferable to all whose reverence for <em>literature anglais</em> is to be warranted. To commiserate against so great and gaping an injustice presents itself as a course of action perhaps less unwise than others.</p>
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<p>Yours faithfully fond, Henri</p>
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<p>******</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>From:</strong> gatsby@prodigy.net</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>To:</strong> wharton@mount.com</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>Cc:</strong> ernie@erols.com; listserv@deadauthorsguild.org</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>Re:</strong> What did I win?</p>
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<p>Dear Mrs. Wharton,</p>
<p></p>
<p>This is the first I've heard about a prize. Pardon me for asking, but is there by any chance some money attached to it? Also, please forgive me for the off-color stories I told at tea last week. The one about the American couple in the bordello went a little far, I think. Zelda and I may have had a few too many before stopping by.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Mirthfully, Scott Fitzgerald</p>
<p></p>
<p>******</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>From:</strong> ernie@erols.com</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>To:</strong> gatsby@prodigy.net</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>Cc:</strong> faulk@snopes.noedu; listserv@deadauthorsguild.org</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>Re:</strong> Listing slightly</p>
<p></p>
<p>Dear Scott,</p>
<p></p>
<p>I was in Key West when I got a copy of your message. I have a place down there in Key West. It's a small place but a good place. There are cats and a lot of rain and when it rains the cats all come inside the house. The biggest cat is named Hem. There are some smaller cats, too, with names like &quot;Scott&quot; and &quot;Sherwood&quot; and &quot;Dos.&quot; The big cat is bigger than the others and also braver and probably a better writer. But some people who don't know any better think the little cats are pretty cute. One day I'll put them in a bag and drown them in the river for their own good.</p>
<p></p>
<p>In Florida the cats drink milk, but we humans all drink rum. It's not very good rum, but in Florida rum is the drink to drink so we drink it. Sometimes we mix the rum with Coke and sometimes we don't mix it with anything, depending on how thirsty we are. Rum and Coke is a good drink, but not if you're thirsty. If you're thirsty, you want water, but never Rum and Coke. Here's 400 bucks. You can pay me when you see me, unless I see you first.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Hell, you were saying something about a list. I couldn't quite make out what you were saying, but I knew it was about a list. Scott, a list is a fine thing if you're young, and you're high up on it. But when you're a little older and not so high up you see that the list is just a list and that's all it is.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Yours always--Ernesto</p>
<p></p>
<p>******</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>From:</strong> faulk@snopes.noedu<strong>To:</strong> ernie@erols.com<strong>Cc:</strong> gatsby@hotmail.com; listserv@deadauthorsguild.org <strong>Re:</strong></p>
<p></p>
<p>Dear Ernest,</p>
<p></p>
<p>Apparently man can be cured of drugs, drink, gambling, biting his nails, and picking his nose, but not of making lists. I'm not giving it another moment's thought on account of I'm too busy writing my novels, and if somebody wants to read one of them instead of sipping a whisky highball and kicking back in an Adirondack chair or an eight-dollar swivel chair or a pig iron porch swing covered in fifty-cent Montgomery Ward paint from a paintcan he keeps on a ledge in the fallingdown barn where his people have been begetting quadroons and octaroons and sixteentharoons and thirtysecondaroons since the time before they thought to write it down, that's nobody's business but his own. I've got only one complaint for you to please pass along to the committee. My handwriting may not be all handwriting should be, especially after lunch, but even a county court judge drunk at noon ought to be able to read a title straight. So please tell those Northern fools it's not <em>Light in August</em> but <em>Fightin August</em>, for godsakes.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Let's get soused again sometime soon,</p>
<p></p>
<p>Yours, Bill</p>
<p></p>
<p>P.S. Mailer is Hemingway on a tight budget. Styron is Faulkner on no budget at all.</p>
<p></p>
<p>******</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>From:</strong> mailer@daemon.com<strong>To:</strong> faulk@snopes.noedu<strong>Cc:</strong> listserv@deadauthorsguild.org<strong>Re:</strong> Insult as e-mail; the e-mail as insult</p>
<p></p>
<p>Mailer had always thought highly of William Faulkner. Once, when he was younger, he had read Faulkner's <em>As I Lay Dying</em> cover to cover. Privately, he had found it a bit confusing. Why was the mother a fish? But he knew that people thought it was a fine novel, and he resented that he hadn't written it himself. Faulkner was a Southerner, probably a racist, and hard to understand. Mailer was a Jewish New Yorker, beloved by black people, and a comparatively easy read (not to mention a fine lay). Still, Mailer thought, Faulkner and Mailer were a lot alike. Both were great American writers--between them they had written many of the best 100 novels of the 20<sup>th</sup> century. Both drank, heavily at times; liked to get paid for what they wrote; and had contempt for lesser talents. Mailer thought Faulkner thought highly of Mailer as well--maybe as highly as Mailer did himself.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Mailer had sent Faulkner every book he had ever written, all with flattering inscriptions, and never received so much as a thank-you. Mailer suspected that Faulkner had read them all and wished he had written them himself. Possibly, Faulkner had never so much as looked at them. He had heard somewhere that Faulkner had died. Still, Mailer was irked. He felt that it had all been a big literary game. Mailer was not a critic of Southern literature, but he privately wondered whether posterity might not judge John Jakes a better novelist than Faulkner, sources close to Mailer tell Mailer.</p>
<p></p>
<p>So to be called Hemingway on a budget by Faulkner made Mailer angry. It made Mailer very, very angry. So angry did Mailer become that Mailer took the big picture of Faulkner that hangs over Mailer's desk and smashed it into a million pieces. After he did that, there were just pictures of Mailer hanging there. Mailer recognized that this reaction was not very mature, but Mailer had bigger things to worry about than minding his literary manners. Mailer didn't understand why people were treating him like a dead writer, either. Just recently, Mailer had published his autobiography and a book about Jesus. Mailer had the inspired idea to combine the two subjects in one book. Bill Faulkner never had an idea that good, or if he did, no one could understand it.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Mailer thought to himself that next time he saw Faulkner, he would probably sock him one in the kisser. No, Mailer thought, the next time he ran into Faulkner at a swanky literary party, he would return Faulkner's insult with his usual witty insouciance. Mailer hated those parties, but he hardly ever missed one. &quot;Your books stink,&quot; Mailer imagined himself saying. &quot;Mailer can't understand a word of them.&quot;</p>
<p></p>
<p>******</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>From:</strong> dharmabum@nirvana.net<strong>To:</strong> mailer@daemon.com; listserv@deadauthorsguild.org<strong>Cc:</strong> beats@evillage.com<strong>Re:</strong> On the list</p>
<p></p>
<p>Norm,</p>
<p></p>
<p>Easy on the benzedrine, man. Me, I was just pleased to be on that list with famouswriters like Paul Bowles and William Golding. That cat Saul Bellow was on there too. It made me think about the time Neal and I went to see him in Chicago in 1949.</p>
<p></p>
<p>I came in by Greyhoundbus from Milwaukee. It was an ordinary Greyhoudbus with runaways and oldfolk and the Greyhoundbusdriver in his Greyhoundbusdriver's cap not saying much of anything but just driving the bus toward Chi. Neal didn't have the busfare so he hotwired a car, not to steal it, but just to ride ride ride for the thrill of it like some magnificent highflying parkpigeon. Along the way, Neal had married or maybe just kidnapped a Scandinavian-extracted girl from Kenosha named Inga. Inga had blond curls and beefy arms like a stevedore and was excited about seeing the bigcity but said she wanted to go home and was going to call the police if he didn't take her. Neal should have been worried about Inga being jailbait but at that point he was pretty focused on medieval literature, and kept on reciting passages from Chaucer and <em>El Cid</em> and talking about how Giotto was a better painter than Van Gogh, nokidding.</p>
<p></p>
<p>We were crashing at a cold water flat on the South side with a guy called Phil and Phil's aunt and her chihuahuas. The chihuahuas had been shaved real close to the skin, so there wasn't much to them, just a lot of pointy ears and dogyapping. They must have been pretty cold in those Chi winters and when they were hungry they'd claw at your shins. Neal wanted to invite Sanchez and Marylou and Freddie Engels over for a sexorgy but Dave's aunt was out of chihuahuafood, so before we could do that, we had to get something for the dogs to eat.</p>
<p></p>
<p>As soon as we stepped outside Phil's aunt's apartment, a cruiser spotted us and tailed after us at a slow crawl down the street. Neal had ditched his freebuick, but apparently we looked like some hipsters who had pulled off a jewelry heist downtown. They didn't stop us on suspicion, but just kept tailing us at a distance which made us twitchy since Inga kept saying she was going to turn us in for being hopheads and whiteslavers and a lot of other stuff I couldn't understand because it was in Swedish. We knew they were cops because they had copuniforms and were driving a copcar. So we stopped in a dark dingy old South side tavern to think over our plans and have some coldbeers.</p>
<p></p>
<p>When we came out of there, Inga had split and we realized we were on Congress Street. Congress Street shoots out West for an amazing distance, which is where we were headed, so we hijacked a lettuce rig, pistol-whipped the driver, wham, and made straight for Joliet. As we were riding through the sweetsmelling American night, Neal looked up from the book he was reading, <em>Les aventures de la dialectique</em>, by Maurice Merleau-Ponty, which he had lifted from the philosophy section of Kroch's &amp; Brentano's in the Loop. He turned to me and the driver of the rig who was wearing a lettucepicking outfit and a red bandanna tied around his mouth and said, &quot;Oh man, we completely forgot to go see Saul Bellow.&quot; And now we're all on the same list of goodbooks. I'm sohappy.</p>
<p></p>
<p>As ever, Jack</p>
<p></p>
<p>******</p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>From:</strong> virginia@bloomsbury.net<strong>To:</strong> dharmabum@nirvana.net<strong>Cc:</strong> bloomsburygroup@bloomsbury.net; listerv@deadauthorsguild.org<strong>Re:</strong> Who's afraid of V W?</p>
<p></p>
<p>My dear Mr Kerouac,</p>
<p></p>
<p>Yes, of course I too am pleased to be on the list. All these last several decades I have been overwhelmed with feelings of horror &amp; despair; annihilation; nothingness; barrenness &amp; void. One could say that I have been in a poor mood. For <em>To the Lighthouse</em> to place fifteenth provides a moment of cheer, for it proves that someone has indeed read to the end of it.</p>
<p></p>
<p>But a moment of cheer quickly passes. What after all is a list? A hundred books; perhaps seventy-five; perhaps only fifty. The end of each arrives, and soon another book is published, a book is reviewed, more books appear. List succeeds list. Lists turn into libraries. Some of these books are borrowed from the libraries. These books seethe with plots; with characters; with life &amp; suspense. In other books, little occurs. A group of persons goes somewhere; or does not go somewhere; or contemplates going somewhere but delays the decision about whether to go. The words fly past; two hundred words; six hundred words; one thousand five hundred words; two thousand words. The words turn into pages: one hundred pages; two hundred pages; three hundred pages; four hundred pages. The alphabet is recounted. B follows A. D is preceded by C; then comes E; then F; then G; then H; then I. If L could be reached, that would be something. But L is very hard to attain; very few people in the whole of England ever attain L. Not many even get so far as K. And what of M, and the murky letters which follow M, which include U, R and W? Who can even speak of W, which shimmers at the North end of the alphabet, scarcely visible from D. When I think of D, an image comes into my head that I am powerless to resist: it is the cross section of a mackerel.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Please forgive my digression--what else can one call it, except perhaps &quot;maundering&quot;--which has made me forget entirely what I had been about to tell you! It is nothing of importance! Perhaps something about Vanessa; or Lytton; or Vita; or Lady Ottoline; or Maynard, who as I write pursues Duncan around the garden with lust in his heart &amp; a croquet mallet. Such gossip pales beside this &quot;maundering,&quot; this reverie for which I am intensely thankful; for nothing so solaces me, calms me in the perplexity of life, and miraculously raises its burdens, as this sublime power, this divine talent for writing endlessly about hardly anything at all, &amp; one should no more interrupt it, while it lasts than one should break the crockery in one's home and leave the shards lying on the kitchen floor for no reason. Though yes, I have done that at times as well.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Write if you find work, V</p>Fri, 31 Jul 1998 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/07/100_best_novels_the_authors_respond.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-07-31T07:30:00ZEavesdropping on the Dead Authors' Guild Listserv.Technology“100 Best Novels”? The Authors Respond3614Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/3614falsefalsefalse“100 Best Novels”? The Authors Respond“100 Best Novels”? The Authors RespondAvant-Garde, My Derri?http://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/07/avantgarde_my_derri.html
<p></p>
<p>By Jacob Weisberg</p>
<p></p>
<p><em>(posted Thursday, July 23, 1998)</em></p>
<p> Walking into the SoHo branch of the Guggenheim Museum, you are received by an enormous inflatable dominatrix lying on her back. She wears fishnet stockings and a teddy festooned with baby doll heads and holds a whip. In other respects, the image is that of an Asian kewpie doll--powdered face, braids, tassels, and a silk gown. The irregularly shaped dirigible on which the photograph of this amalgamated woman is superimposed is connected to foot pumps. From the balcony at entrance level, you can step down on these pumps, blowing air into the sculpture below.</p>
<p> <em>Hydra</em> <em>(Monument)</em> is a self-portrait by the South Korea-born Lee Bul, one of six finalists for the Hugo Boss Prize--a biennial competition for cutting-edge artists sponsored by the German menswear manufacturer that takes place at the Guggenheim Museum's SoHo branch. Lee is the most in-your-face of the group. Her previous works include <em>Abortion</em>, a 1989 performance piece in which she hung upside down and naked from the gallery ceiling, talking about her abortion and reciting song lyrics. In another series,, she exhibited rotting fish decorated with beads and sequins, supposedly to &quot;create a biting satire on women's servitude in a male-dominated culture,&quot; according to the exhibition catalog.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Lee's approach and preoccupations are characteristic not only of the Boss prize finalists but of contemporary conceptual art in general. Her work is theory driven and eschews traditional technique. It is based on the manipulation of pre-existing images rather than the coinage of new ones. By appropriating and commenting on them, Lee, like the other artists in the Boss show, aims at a critique of the dominant culture. The key buzzword echoing through the catalog is &quot;otherness,&quot; a term borrowed from formerly trendy French literary criticism. Minus the obscurantism, the idea is that cultural difference--racial, sexual, and national (though never religious)--is the fundamental and brutal truth of modern existence.</p>
<p> Elsewhere on the left, this view is at least subject to argument and criticism. Only in the art world is radical multiculturalism an unquestionable dogma. There is not even a flash of recognition of the irony that this philosophy manifests itself in a big international art show where brings together artists of every race, nationality, and sexual orientation to proclaim that they are despised and ignored. But whatever the merits of essentialism as an outlook on life, its art world fruits, as displayed in the Boss exhibition, are flavorless and repetitive. By the end, what you have learned is that in contemporary art, &quot;the other&quot; is always pretty much the same.</p>
<p> T he Guggenheim has essentially ruled out conventional forms such as painting, drawing, print-making, or sculpture, preferring art that is &quot;process-oriented&quot; to art that is static. Four of the other five finalists present video installations. The wonderfully named Pipilotti Rist, a Swiss who used to be in a rock band, makes--in the guise of commenting on racy music videos--what are essentially <a href="http://www.eyekon.ch/pipilotti/E15e.html">dull racy music videos</a>. Her chief submission to the Boss prize is an installation titled, an underwater sequence set to her own version of Chris Isaak's song &quot;Wicked Games,&quot; which Rist sings and then shrieks. Projected in mirror image on two screens joined at right angles, it turns images of the artist cavorting underwater along with various objects such as a cheese grater and a TV set into a kind of giant vaginascope. Of the artists represented, Rist is the only one who approximates a sense of humor, and it's a fairly distant approximation.</p>
<p> Levity is not part of the repertoire of the African-American artist Lorna Simpson. Simpson has previously exhibited photographs of black women accompanied by bits of cryptic text. For example, a print of in a dilapidated apartment, one in sunglasses with a drink, the other peering across the room, bears the legend &quot;forecasting visibility from the office.&quot; According to the catalog, Simpson's pictures of women staring blankly underscore that they are &quot;unheard in a racist, patriarchal society.&quot; Lately, she has moved into film. Her entry in the Boss prize competition is a nine minute black-and-white piece titled <em>Recollection</em>, in which several women conduct disjointed conversations on the theme of forgetfulness.</p>
<p> A rguably the most banal work in the show comes from the Scottish artist Douglas Gordon. Gordon is a Glaswegian previously known for having one of his forefingers tattooed completely black and taking, and another in which he slowed down the film <em>Psycho</em> to a speed at which it took 24 hours to watch. One Gordon contribution is a piece of insipid text titled, lettered in white on a blue wall. Statements such as &quot;hot is cold&quot; form a kind of word palindrome that makes Jenny Holzer seem deep. Gordon's other work is archival footage projected on two free-standing video screens. <a href="http://www.illumin.co.uk/britishart/artists/dg/dg_work3.html">Hysterical</a> uses film from 1908 of two Italian men putting a masked woman through some sort of psychological treatment.</p>
<p> More inventive than Gordon is the Chinese artist Huang Yong Ping, who was caught abroad during the Tiananmen Square uprising and now lives in Paris. Huang is also interested in the conflict between Western and Eastern cultures but seems less enraged on the topic than Lee. His previous work has involved putting books through a washing machine cycle and collecting live animals, such as scorpions, snakes, and insects, and setting them to battle in enclosures filled with Chinese art objects. Huang's installation for the Boss prize, the largest work in the show, is called <em>The Saint Learns From the Spider to Weave a Cobweb</em>. It's a lattice of copper pipes from which hang a chair and a dozen mesh cages. Inside each cage is a hairy, live tarantula. The title refers to the Taoist Ge Hong, who wrote that &quot;animals are superior to human beings.&quot; Reminiscent of the room-filling iron spiders cast by Louise Bourgeois, it conveys the feeling of being trapped in a philosophical cage--and in so doing perfectly captures the spirit of the exhibition as whole.</p>
<p> B ecause the $50,000 prize to be announced July 29 is for the artist's whole <em>oeuvre</em> and not the work submitted for the show, I would award it, if forced to choose, to South African William Kentridge, who is known for powerful, many with anti-apartheid themes. Unfortunately, following the vogue of conceptualism, Kentridge has entered a film in the show,, which uses animation of sketches much cruder than the ones he usually does interspersed with documentary footage from the apartheid era. Set against the solipsistic identity politics of the rest of the show, Kentridge's old-school agitprop is nearly refreshing.</p>
<p></p>
<p>It is perhaps unsurprising that a prize endowed by Hugo Boss should end up being less about craft than about fashion. What makes the exhibition truly dreary, however, is the pretense that it's daring, when really it's an exercise in intellectual conformity. All the avant-garde artists included are actually academic, both in the sense of deriving their ideas about cultural difference from French literary critics and in the sense that they follow the dictates of others about what art should be. Subtract the shock value, and what you have here is the salon painting of the 1990s.</p>
<p><strong> If you missed the link about the irony of Hugo Boss' sponsorship of the prize, click.</strong></p>Fri, 24 Jul 1998 07:30:00 GMThttp://www.slate.com/articles/technology/the_browser/1998/07/avantgarde_my_derri.htmlJacob Weisberg1998-07-24T07:30:00ZThe new academicism.TechnologyAvant-Garde, My Derri?3613Jacob WeisbergThe Browserhttp://www.slate.com/id/3613falsefalsefalseAvant-Garde, My Derri?Avant-Garde, My Derri?